Some Sacred Place
by N.H. Arawn
Summary: “I don’t remember…” Lavi started racking his brain for an instance of the name somewhere in his memory. There was nothing there, nothing but for this moment, nothing but black. "I'm Lavi? And you're Tyki? You know me?" YAOI
1. Everything's Broken

**OMG, another one. Yes, this is Nia-fic number three, and I'm posting it for a few reasons.**

**First, there needs to be more lucky fiction. The end.**

**Second, this fic is dedicated to Melissa, because she's awesome. And if it wasn't for her, I don't think I'd be half the Lucky fan I am today. Nor a quarter the 'authoress'.**

**Thirdly, much like tws, this has been sitting on my computer for months – yes, months – and I might as well just let you guys have it. No use keeping it to myself.**

**Lastly, ;3 I love angst and if you're reading this, so should you.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own D. Gray-man.**

**Warnings: Confusing plot structure. Clingy Lavi. Lost of stuff. If you think Tyki is odd, give him time. His logic will be explained in the future.**

**-- -- --**

Chapter One: Everything's Broken

The world was dark, completely and utterly black. Oblivion. And pain. His head, or he assumed that it was his head, throbbed with a distant sort of ache that pulsed with every beat of his heart. He felt heavy. Too heavy. But he couldn't remember what came before this strange, dark existence where breathing felt like work.

He worked his jaw a little and found a length of fabric held firmly between his teeth, too tight to push away with his tongue, too thick to be chewed through, and he whimpered softly at it. Why would there be cloth in his mouth? He didn't know. He couldn't remember. He jerked his hands to move it and found them secured to whatever he was laying on, a length of soft cloth looped around either wrist, restraining him gently. The attempt at movement brought pain the likes of which he could never remember feeling searing through his shoulder blades and up the back of his neck, across his eyes and down the inside of his forehead. It was too much pain to deal with easily and he choked out a groan at it, wordless and lipless from the wad of material holding his lips a half inch apart.

"Oh, the beast stirs at last. For a time there I thought I had lost you." A hand was touching his face, following the line of his cheekbones, and he shivered, fire dancing across the skin. "You're very resilient _Lavi_; even your eyes seem to be healing." Under the press of those fingers he couldn't help but let out a second cry of pain, not understanding. The sound got him a soft chuckle. "I gagged you when you threatened to bite off your own tongue while I was trying to dress your eyes the first time. It would all be pointless if you drowned yourself in your own blood, wouldn't it? All for nothing. The binds on your wrists are the same: you tried to hit me and reopened every wound you took. Almost bled out in my hands, you did. What's the fun in that, hm?"

Lavi – he assumed that _Lavi_ meant _him_ – tried to dislodge the cloth from his mouth with his tongue, and made a loud encouraging sound when fingers fell behind his head and tugged at the knot there. The material slid away, slick and wet, leaving his mouth hot and dry in its wake. He swallowed with difficulty, wetting his lips with his tongue. _"Where…"_

The voice laughed at him softly, fingers ghosting over his lower lip. He didn't stiffen at it, nor did his breathing hitch – this person was comfortable touching him, even if he couldn't name him by the sound of his voice. "It doesn't matter where; no one is going to find you here."

"_Who…"_

"What?"

"_Who… are you?" _The question was answered with silence for a moment, eerily still, and he swallowed hard, his mouth still terribly dry. A hand cupped the base of his skull and tilted his head back a little, just enough to encourage his mouth to fall open before a cup pressed to his lips and poured stale tasting water into it. He gulped it down just fast enough not to choke on it, bittersweet agony searing in a line down his back from where that palm held his head aloft. The water was moved away, but the hand stayed where it was, holding his face up at an angle that might have been best for someone else to look down on it from above. "And I'm… Lavi, right?"

There was yet more stillness for a bit, the air in front of his face slightly warmer than it had been only a moment before. A hand pressed to his chest and he waited, though he wasn't sure what he was waiting for. "Tyki Mikk." The man said, low as if it was something to be feared. Lavi felt himself frown a little.

"I don't… remember…" Lavi started, racking his brain for an instance of the name somewhere in his memory. There was nothing there, nothing but for this moment, nothing but _black_. A small wave of panic began to fill his chest. "I don't remember! I don't remember anything! I _am_ Lavi, right? And you know me? Then… I'm sorry, I'm really sorry but… how did I… how come – let me touch you! If I'm blind then let me feel your face so I can _remember_..." The man above him remained unmoving, the breath steady against his face. After a moment the hand on the back of his head lowered to the pillow and left his flesh to come back at his chin tilting his face upward.

"You do not remember anything?"

"No! What happened? Who _are_ you aside from Tyki?! Why can't I… why can't I…"

"Calm yourself, Bookman, before you threaten your own life again."

"Bookman? But I don't—"

"If you're lying I'll rip out your heart with my bare hands."

Lavi heard a distinct note of honesty in the words and clapped his mouth shut for a moment, breathing deeply. He shivered at the touch of fingers on his throat, tracing the line of his windpipe, and gathered his courage once more. The sheets were soft, the bindings light, and this person had done it all to save him. "I'm sorry," He whispered upward, shaking his head in the hope that the other could see. "But… there's nothing. For all I know, _you_ could have done this to me. And I don't think that's what happened with how you're taking care of me," The hand on Lavi's chin tightened before it loosened again, almost tender against his flesh. Though he could not see the expression that went with it, he somehow felt that it was safe to assume the man leaning over him was either incredulous or worried. "Will you remind me? And… lemme touch you're face so I can _see_ you?"

Tyki let Lavi's head back against his pillow and began to gently tug at the restraints that held his arms to the wooden headboard.

Lavi didn't move for a moment when they were free, thinking about where he wanted to put his fingers first.

The Noah cleared his throat so he could speak. "You and I are… fighting something of a holy war," Tyki said softly, and a hand shook its way to his jaw line, the young man almost beneath him trembling at the pain the motion sent shooting down his back.

"Holy war, hm?" Lavi pressed his fingers from lips to earlobe and back again, building the image of a masculine jaw and something of a pointed chin, a wide mouth, and ears that sported small, almost elfish points. Tyki's cheek bones rose slowly under the redhead's fingertips, followed by the hollows of his eyes. Lavi frowned a little. "What color are they?" A little gasp sounded softly against his palm.

"Grayish brown. Usually."

Lavi tried to nod and winced under his bandages. "Something tells me that you're the prankster of the two of us…"

"What?"

His fingers found a tall forehead followed by thick, curly hair, most likely dark. When he carded his fingers through it the man he was touching grew tense, almost jumpy, so he lightened his caresses in an effort to soothe him. "A holy war? Like I'd believe that sort of crap. I don't know what year it is but I'm not the type to go lookin' for blood, I don't think, especially not over something like religion. Besides, I can't see… how would a blind guy fight in any kind of war?" As soon as the question was out of his mouth the head against his hand was shaking, slowly, moving back a bit as if to pull away completely. His fingers fisted a little in Tyki's hair, not wanting to let him go.

"You could see before." Tyki said softly. "You… might again… when your eyes are healed."

At the words Lavi moved his left hand to his own face, most of which was bruised to the point that doing so was painful. He ran his fingers softly over the bandage that covered both of his eyes, hissing at the pressure. There were still sockets with the correct shape, but they didn't respond to the touch like normal – no spot of color dotted the Exorcist's sight, no flicker of light. There was nothing but that continued unending darkness in front of his eyes.

"I don't… remember…" Lavi mumbled under his breath. "War? Is that… how this happened?"

He thought he heard Tyki nod before a little sound of confirmation sounded in front of him. "You really don't know who I am, do you?"

Lavi shook his head, then winced at the pain it caused. It seemed that his back and neck had suffered almost as badly as his face had. "I don't. I can kind of imagine your face now but… can you remind me? How do I know you? We're not… brothers or something, right?"

Tyki chuckled and fingers guided Lavi's hand away from his face to the mattress. Lavi could feel that the blankets were heavy and warm, the topmost a soft and fuzzy like fur, but he didn't let that distract him. Instead he wound his fingers around the larger man's and held on, squeezing with most of his strength.

The man above him let out a soft gasping sound and the hand jerked back only to grow still again without returning his hold.

"Please."

"No, Lavi. We aren't brothers." Tyki answered quietly. "I'd rather not shock you with all of the truth at once though, so I won't tell you everything. Besides, I'm not inclined to believe you."

"Do I lie a lot?"

"I don't know you well enough to know that."

Lavi let his lips turn down in a small, thoughtful frown, holding on to Tyki's hand a little more tightly. "Then… what _can_ you tell me?" The words came out shakier than he intended but he couldn't stop himself now, not knowing anything, not understanding the situation, having no comfort – it was going to drive him mad. "Anything? If I'm fighting a war what side am I on? Fuck, how old am I? I don't… _remember…_" He stopped at the touch of a palm, gentler this time, on the side of his face, tilting it upward. There was breath on his cheeks and nose, warm and soothing, the hand in his tightened enough that he could feel fingernails brushing lightly on the back of his hand. Everything felt _close_. It didn't matter that he didn't know Tyki, nor did it matter that Tyki didn't know him: it only mattered that he could feel the heat of another body pouring down against him.

_Maybe I was lonely._

"Your name is Lavi, as far as I know. That's what's printed on the buttons of your coat at least." Tyki's voice said from above him, louder than was absolutely necessary to convey his point. "I don't know how old you are but you appear to be between eighteen and twenty. _This_ happened because you placed yourself in a position to fall down an abandoned well, but you hit your face on something before you actually managed to teeter to your near death."

"What was it?"

"Hard to explain exactly. I suppose an _enemy attack_ would be the best label for it."

With a shuddering breath and a slow swallow, Lavi reached up with his left arm to touch the back of Tyki's shirt and tug him closer. The press of a chest against his own, however reluctant, however unfamiliar, sent a little pinprick of comfort into his mind that wasn't entirely negated by the pain the contact caused. "Thank you, Tyki." The words were spoken genuinely, tiredly, sounding even to Lavi as if he expected death to come for him the moment the larger man pulled away from him and left him in this never ending darkness alone. "For bringing me here and… telling me even that little bit of the whole story. I wish I _knew_ you. I wish I could look at you and try to recall when we met but… I don't even know my last name…" He tapered off and his fingers tightened in Tyki's shirt yet again. It was solid. And Tyki smelled like a person. And he did not want to be left alone to think about how much he didn't know.

Tyki's breathing was a bit more rapid than it had been and his voice a little softer when he spoke. "This is not what I thought would happen when I brought you here."

"Are we not the hugging type?"

"You might say that."

"'Cause I'll go outta my mind if you leave me alone right now." Lavi admitted very quietly. As he went on, he tilted his head enough to press his forehead into the crook of Tyki's throat regardless of how much his body did _not_ want to bend at that angle. The Noah let him take a long, shaky breath against his skin. "You smoke?"

"Yes."

"You should quit. It's not good for you."

-- -- --

With a deep rumbling laugh the larger man pried the smaller away from him and sat beside him, but allowed the boy to keep his right hand occupied regardless of his own desire to yank it away. It seemed that the redhead was being entirely honest with his tale of memory failure, and the twitching of his fingers only served to prove it true.

The Noah let out a sigh and looked at the bruised and beaten face of his not-quite-captive, then frowned, studying the blood spots that had seeped through the older of the bandages. They would have to be changed. The wounds cleaned. It was true that killing the young man now – without his memory, his weapon, his anger – seemed like a pointless endeavor, and so there were things that had to be done. Tyki would have to avoid infection unless he meant the apprentice Bookman to die a relatively peaceful death at God's hands and not his own.

_Just what have I gotten myself into?_

"I suppose you're hungry."

"A… little… maybe…" Lavi had never sounded so very timid in all of his life.

"I attempted to make stew for myself yesterday, will that do?"

"I don't remember what I like."

With his eyebrows furrowed and his free hand pressed against the less sore looking flesh of Lavi's jaw, Tyki tried to read the expression on the redhead's features without seeing his eyes. In the end he could only guess what the down turned mouth and wrinkleless brow meant, everything else lost behind the red and white gauze that covered the boy's eyes. Fear though, had nothing to do with it.

His hand fell to Lavi's chest and rested over his heart. It should have been seen as a threat and got him _some_ sort of reaction – anything besides the little lift of the redhead's lips he saw at the brush of his fingertips.

"Tyki," Lavi's mouth said the name as if it had no meaning that went with it connotatively, just a name he could say while he smiled. "If we aren't close enough for you to know if I lie, why are you touching me like… you know how to?" The fingers paused and Tyki leaned closer, not quite as close as before.

"Don't overanalyze things, I am only checking your wounds." Tyki began to do just that, running his palms over the heavier bruises and lifting the smaller man to see the damage still present on his back. There were a number of places that made Lavi hiss in pain or groan in discomfort, but he never flatly stated just how much the little bits of pressure hurt. All the same Tyki found himself avoiding the worst of them, less than half of his touches falling on bruised or cut flesh. "I will have to change most of these once you have eaten. Try not to move between now and then, there are already bloodstains on the other set of sheets from when I brought you here." He lowered the redhead down again, but left his hands where they were, one on Lavi's neck and the other gripped to the boy's chest.

For a moment the Noah wasn't sure what to think about the redhead's trust in him.

"What's the worst of it?" Lavi breathed up at him, not quite frightened. "Besides my eyes, I mean?"

Tyki wet his lips before he spoke. "You're right ankle is wrenched, likely broken, though I have yet to concern myself with more than setting it straight at the moment. You hit your head hard enough to jar your memory and split the back of your head open – your skull didn't crack so I thought you'd be fine." He traced his fingers to Lavi's left shoulders and pressed on the very darkest bandage, which drew a muted exclamation from the Exorcist's lips. "A metal rod came through here, from behind. Part of a cart, I believe. The rest is mostly bumps and scratches and bruises, your back got the worst of those, mostly along your shoulders. I expect that you'll want to sit up while you eat, won't you? That should pinpoint the ones I have forgotten for you." With the words he moved his hands to the slightly less painful looking area under Lavi's arms and lifted him, propping him against headboard.

The redhead reached out and gripped his shirt, a hissed curse under his breath. _"Shit_… coulda warned me you were gonna—" Lavi cut himself off with a gasp at a look of utter and complete confusion and Tyki's hand sank into the left side of his chest, like a tickle against the surface of his heart. "Wha-what are you doing?" Lavi's voice was almost steady, just a note of pain and an undertone of fear lacing it ever so subtly.

With a grim sort of smile Tyki wound his fingers around the apprentice Bookman's heart and gave it a small, teasing sort of squeeze.

Lavi produced a strange sort of choking sound at it – the same sound he had made the first time.

Tyki grinned a little wider. "What does it feel like I'm doing, boy?"

"To-touching… my heart…" The redhead hardly managed to speak at all; Tyki wondered if speaking was harder with a hand restricting the already bruised and beating muscles in his chest. "But that can't be… true. Maybe I just… hurt something in my…and you d-didn't find—" He took in two large gulps of air and his heart pounded against Tyki's palm, too rapid, fear and anguish obvious on his face despite the length of gauze around his eyes. Lavi reached out further and desperately dragged the Noah closer, incapable of getting enough oxygen to his brain to stay conscious much longer. "I'm… sorry that you tried…t-to save—"

With a shiver and a scoff the larger man let go and pulled away, leaving Lavi panting with his neck tilted against the headboard, shivers running from the bottom of his feet to his shoulders. The apprentice Bookman wasn't lying – he had no idea who Tyki was. What he could do. What he had wanted.

"I – apologize. It was all I could think of to test if you were lying." To his surprise the redhead nodded lopsidedly at him, his mouth still open so he could take in as much air as possible. It made him look pale and broken with the sheen of perspiration soaking into the bandage on his face.

"I un…understand."

Tyki moved away from the bed and looked down at the slowly recovering Exorcist with his eyebrows pushed together in thought. Perhaps it would be more painful for the apprentice Bookman when he realized who it was that he was trusting – assuming his memory came back with his sight at least – and it wouldn't all be for naught. Tyki hoped that would be the case: his family would never forgive him otherwise. "Rest, I will heat food and find something to ease your pain. It shouldn't take more than ten minutes."

As he turned away, Lavi seemed to struggle to speak to him again, but stopped himself, still breathing too deeply to form whole sentences. Before Tyki left, he brushed his fingers over the Exorcist's brow and frowned at the warmth of his skin. Feverish, if only slightly. The young man hadn't been ready for that kind of treatment.

"No… blood thinners." Lavi mumbled at length. "Your sheets won't… forgive me."

"Blood thinners?"

"Aspirin. Willow bark tea. Stuff like that." The corner of the redhead's mouth lifted in a mirthless expression of amusement, though he didn't turn his face to make the expression more visible. "Why the hell do I remember that and not who _you_ are?"

With the same hand he had just wrapped around Lavi's heart, Tyki touched the side of the young man's face and felt him lean into the touch, more than willing to have the physical contact there. For the briefest of moments the Noah felt sorry for him, pitied his weakness as well as his pain. The thought, the distinctly human emotion of sympathy, forced him to lean forward enough to hold the fragile red haired human against his chest, the same as attacking an Exorcist in reverse. This Exorcist didn't have his Innocence with him, dropped somewhere on the battlefield: he was harmless and breakable, like a defenseless child left to wander without knowledge of home or family. Gingerly Tyki rubbed at the place he had put his hand through, unharmed, while his right thumb stroked slowly over the boy's cheek, a feather over the deeper bruises.

The apprentice Bookman moved his right hand just enough to run his fingers through the Noah's hair. "Even if you don't know me that well, Tyki," The redhead had taken to shaking. "You care enough to hug me when I need it?"

"I'm afraid that things are just a bit more complicated than that."

"Ok…"

The Noah shook his head, then remembered that Lavi couldn't see and sighed, exasperated. "Moments of compassion are my weakness. I shouldn't comfort you."

"Pretty sure you shouldn't have tested me by squeezing my heart like a boa constrictor either." There was a hint of sarcasm in the statement, just detectable, and it quirked Tyki's lips a bit to hear it. "How'd you do that, by the way? Magic?"

"I do not do magic." He responded at once. With a slowness that was only half meant to be non-threatening, his fingers moved through the bandage of cloth around Lavi's chest and ran his fingers lightly across the skin there, which in turn made the boy shiver. "My… God given gift is to pass through whatever I do not wish to touch, and vice versa. The fact that you didn't remember that makes dishonesty rather unlikely."

The Exorcist did what he had done before and leaned his face into Tyki's neck, resting on his forehead, making the Noah's heart speed in his chest. That close, that trusted by an enemy, Tyki didn't know what to do with either of them. "That's pretty handy… so… what can I do?"

"You never explained it to me, but you have a large, lengthily named hammer that grows when you will it to, and such. I have had the occasion to see you control nature with it as well." Lavi didn't respond at once to that, just leaning into Tyki with his eyebrows furrowed against the older man's shirt.

The redhead's stomach rumbled. "Yours sounds better."

"It is better. Every time you've fought me, you've lost."

"I bet you don't fight fair."

"Fighting fair is fighting to win."

"Whatever." Lavi breathed in deeply, completely at ease, and sighed, the air he expelled play back across his upper lip, the current changed by Tyki's shoulder in front of him. He sank against the rumpled pillows, a bit lumpy against his back, and touched the crisp fabric of the Noah's shirt with his fingertips. He looked prepared to fall asleep if Tyki would let him, his breathing even now, deep and slow, almost forced. "Ne, Tyki… will you… be here? I mean… if I fall asleep?" His fingers loosened slightly.

"I was going to feed you first, Lavi."

"I know but… while you're getting it I might just conk out on ya. If not, I'm sure I will afterward." His hand hardly played at the material under them at all. "Will you be here when I wake?"

The Noah tried to swallow the utterly human emotion that washed through him, but he couldn't quite stop himself from closing his eyes and thinking of another naïve young man – much younger – he was acquainted with only in times of light. Waking from a nightmare always produced the same question, and it always got the same answer.

'_If I fall asleep again and have the same dream, will you be here when I wake?'_

"Yes. I will."

-- -- --

_Attempted_, Lavi decided, wasn't the word for it.

The stew was too salty, most likely because the chicken broth hadn't been well watered down, and then beef had been added onto top of that, as well as potatoes and carrots and some kind of over-cooked thing that tasted only vaguely spicy. And there was black pepper and yet more salt. In the end, flavor did not matter however and he stuffed himself with two bowls of it as well as a slice of very hard crusted buttered bread, at which point he had to refuse the offered apple to end the meal with. He refused to be spoon fed also, though he did allow his hand to be guided from bowl to mouth and back again a few times before he learned to simply move the container to his face and shovel to save time and energy and laundry. His companion had been moderately amused by the style of eating, but hadn't called him rude for it.

Part of him wanted to believe that rudeness was something forgotten between friends the same it usually was between relatives, but something told him that the assumption was wrong. Instead he decided that, even if they were fighting some kind of holy war, Tyki was not the member of some elitist clergy, decorated with titles and manners and all means of useless ceremony – he was likely a working class citizen, plucked from a hard life and _made_ to fight a war he wasn't cut out to take part in. Lavi didn't ask specifically. Who knew if he was supposed to know?

With the food finished, Tyki offered him a steaming mug of chamomile tea, which he accepting knowing it would likely be about as delicious as the stew had been. He burned his lips bringing it to his mouth, which nearly caused him to slog hot water all over the sheets, cursing. Mild shock stilled him at a cool, unexpected thumb checking that he had not burnt himself passed healing.

With a smile he did not know the look of he informed Tyki that he was fine, just a bit stupid, and would wait before he tried to drink anymore.

"While the tea cools I might as well change the worst of your bandages." Tyki's whispered suggestion was very close to Lavi's right ear, near enough for the younger man to make out just the slightest note of apprehension in his tone. With a grimace he hoped was reassuring, Lavi nodded, and the cup he held in his hands moved without any further warning, leaving his fingers cold. "We'll start with the worse ones and your ankle, you should… relax as much as you are able." The voice was a bit louder, in front of his face, and the sound of a drawer opening made him flinch just a bit to the left, away from the sound.

The fingers that touched his temple worked gently and deftly to remove the gauze around his eyes, which in turn caused no small amount of pain down most of his face. His jaw tightened and palm caressed his cheek, as if in an attempt to soothe him.

The fabric fell away, but no change occurred. No light even flickered in his vision. All the same he had eyelids, nearly immobile with the orbs themselves swollen beneath them.

Tyki made a short sound of disappointment as he tilted the apprentice Bookman's face to the side, the better to see in the light.

"It can't be as bad as all that," Lavi tried to smile. "At the worst I won't be able to see, right? That's not so terrible."

"At the worst," Tyki muttered as he leaned away, likely reaching into the drawer he had opened before. His voice was distracted. "Your right eye has become infected. Which will likely spread, go into your brain, fester, drive you mad, and kill you."

"Geez, I kind of liked the thought of living a long dark life, pessimist."

"Hold still, I'm going to touch your eyes." A cold hand slipped up the back of Lavi's neck to steady it and the redhead leaned ever so gently back, relaxing his face as much as he could. There was a soft popping sound, then warmth against his left cheek before the pain came. He couldn't say if the fingers against his left eye where cold because his was heated, or if the touch burned because of the natural salt in the older man's skin or something else. There was a vague scent however, of something like alcohol and mint, and a dull stinging across his lower lid.

"_Shit…"_

Tyki shushed him just as his arms began to tense, working quickly. "Does it hurt?"

"Mmhmm." Lavi moved his hands to the turns of the larger man's shoulders, where he could feel the angle of Tyki's arms and the muscle move beneath his fingers, warm and sold beneath his touch. Tyki felt broad under his hands, as if he used his upper body quite frequently, and the question of what the man did for a living drove the pain from the redhead's mind a little. The stinging spread from the corner of his eye to his tear duct before he opened his mouth to speak. "What… are you using, exactly?" He inquired, and dug his fingers into yet more shirt at the stabbing pain that came with pressure on his right eye, more sensitive than the left.

"Poultice. The doctor down the street convinced me that it will keep your eye moist and stop infection." Tyki continued to talk in that distracted sort of tone, but a smirk came to his lips that was perfectly audible regardless. "I only wanted enough for one eye but he insisted, luckily enough."

"Why – _ow_ – only one?"

"Oh." The older man finished smearing and leaned to the side again, toward the drawer. "I only knew you had one eye to begin with, the right had always been covered with an unnecessary patch in my presence." Something soft and not-quite fibrous pressed over the redhead's eyes ever so lightly, almost unnoticeable with the medicine dulling the pain as it seeped in. The numbing agent in the poultice worked well enough to keep Lavi from blinking even with the cover pressed directly against his eyes, irritatingly close to his lenses.

He held on to Tyki's shirt as the man leaned away again. "That's… odd…"

"Yes it is."

"I guess we _really _didn't know each other well, eh?" Lavi mumbled and felt something wrap slowly around his head three times, tight but not too much so, before he heard the snip of scissors and felt it secured on the side of his head with a pin.

With a grunt of acquiescence the larger man moved down his chest, working at the bandage on Lavi's left shoulder.

"When you're finished, will you stay with me… until I fall asleep?"

"Hmph."

"I know I'm being childish," Lavi went on softly, face turned a bit away as if he knew the other man was looking at him. "It's just… I can't… it's hard to explain. It won't take more than a few minutes 'cause I'm dead beat and…" He felt a hand grab him by the base of his jaw and turn his face up, a flicker of something distant sparked in the back of his mind, some memory he had seen and not felt. It didn't come back; a rush of de jà vú parted his lips ever so slightly and he recoiled, a tremor taking his shoulders.

"You needn't worry yourself so much, Lavi." Tyki's answer spread warm air across the bridge of his nose and down his neck, enough so that when the hand left his neck to continue with his shoulder, he didn't feel as if he had lost something. "Even if I leave the room you can always call to me, this place is not very large. If you remember something, hear a sound that frightens you, need to know where to find the bathroom – I will come for you if you need me." Lavi's lower lip twitched inexplicably at the words and Tyki allowed a small smile to creep into his voice. "And I will stay with you. I understand that you have nothing right now. And you're blind. Because of that, I don't expect you to be able to do much without me, at least not until you learn the floor plan."

"I don't… really need directions to sleep though…"

"No, but you do need something that won't slip away like your memories have."

"Yeah… that sounds… thank you."

"Please stop saying that."

"Sorry."

Tyki moved lower, taking the covers with him, until Lavi felt his mostly bare legs exposed to the coolness of the room. He felt awkward for the first time since things had begun. Did he have knobby knees? Would the larger man _care_ that he had knobby knees? Was there anything to say or do besides sit there in awkward silence while a pair of strong hands touched first his calf and then his right foot?

He went sliding back with a hiss. _"Christ_."

"Where?"

"The whole _fucking thing_," Lavi breathed, tilting his head back as if to find meaning in the ceiling he could not see. "Can't feel my toes, but from the bottom of my foot to my kneecap is on _fire_." Fingers danced a painful line from the turn of his heel to the top of his toes, terrible sensations zinging through the limb at it. It _had_ to be broken. If it wasn't broken, something else was wrong with it just as bad or worse. To his horror the feeling worsened the more Tyki touched and he grimaced, fighting down a sound of discomfort. _"Tyki…"_

"I know, please try to bear it."

"What I are you—_Oh, God! Shit!_" Lavi tried to curl on himself, away from the dagger of pain ripping through his lower leg, and only managed to lift himself marginally before there were hands on his shoulders, pushing him down, a warm chest there for him to cling to. He shuddered slightly, gasping, dots of pale light dancing in front of his eyes, and pulled Tyki closer, an ill stopped retch threatening his stew.

The larger man calmed him after a moment, running his fingers through the side of Lavi's hair. Lavi wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He instead found his face pressed to Tyki's chest, the scent of smoke and food seeping in his nostrils. "Please don't do that again…" The redhead grumbled, and fisted his hands more surely in Tyki's clothes.

"At least I know that it's broken."

"Is it purple and black?"

"Yes."

"Swollen?"

"Quite a bit."

"Are my toes moving?"

"Hm… not the little ones."

"Yeah. Broken. And a _whole_ lot less painful way of telling… _please_ tell me you don't have to touch it again…" Lavi felt Tyki shake his head, hair tickling the side of his face.

"I have to splint it if you want it to walk on it ever again."

"_Fuck."_ Lavi rocked himself sideways a bit, burying his face in the turn of Tyki's shoulder. "Gimme a sec… I'm all… shit…" He shivered again, and a tearless sob wracked his shoulders, though not enough to make him open the wounds that still littered his back against the headboard. Shaking, he pulled his hands away from Tyki's chest and laid them on his face, crying into them rather than the other man. He felt impossibly awkward, weak, pained, and _terrified_, all of the emotions so deep they left him incapable of doing more than feeling. He wasn't afraid of more pain, nor was he afraid of the man beside him, it was something else entirely that made his breathing changed, choking, and forced his already confused mind into yet more puzzlement. A rather loud sound of anguish made its way beyond his constrained throat and he thought, for a moment, about apologizing for his strange reaction to everything.

A hand came into soft contact with his forehead, cool against his skin, and ran up into his hair, gently repeating the motion once it was completed. Another hand touched his left collar bone, then his neck, following the same pattern as the one that moved against his forehead. Skin against his own was different than fabric, somehow more reassuring, and he used that as an anchor with which to draw himself in and breathe. Before long, though it was still obvious by the downward posture of his lips that he was fighting away his tearless onslaught, he had calmed himself enough to move his finger's to Tyki's and give them a small, undignified squeeze.

"I'm sorry." He breathed. "But I'm kind of scared right now and… I dunno if I should react like this or what but... I'm just…" Flesh touched the side of his cheek, not a hand, some other thing that he couldn't recognize through feeling, and warm breath brushed into his right ear, tickled down the side of his neck. It made him still and quiet, knowing how very close the larger man was.

"It's alright, Lavi. If you would like me to, I will stay like this until you are calm."

"Wow… um… hmm…"

"Would you like me to stay like this?"

"Tyki—"

"It's fine to be selfish." Tyki whispered, and his fingers paused before they went on again, pushing a little harder on Lavi's skin. "Perhaps I can use a bit of my art if you fall asleep like this – touch only the parts that _aren't_ broken or bruised I mean. When you wake I will be here. Maybe not exactly as I am now, but within shouting distance, I'm sure. It's alright." His words, perhaps less than half genuine, encouraged Lavi to drag his hands away from his face and lean his head softly to the side, bringing their cheeks together.

Instinct got the better of the Noah and he tilted back, less than adverse to the trusting touch of skin against his own. He seemed slightly taken aback at the light brush of lips on his face, innocent if not perfectly knowledgeable in what they were doing.

Lavi worried that doing that, pressing his mouth to skin, was too far, but decided to ignore it. "Why are you so good to me?"

"Because you aren't who you were. The man you were wouldn't cry in front of anyone, especially me."

"I'm just so…" Lavi's voice was a raspy whisper, his hand cold when it pulled Tyki's face more firmly against his own. "Please stay." He said bluntly. "Please. I don't want to be alone. I don't want to… inconvenience you, but if you're willing to stay here with me then…"

Tyki hushed him and pulled back a bit, reaching with his right hand for something, and then came back again, still very close to the blind boy's face. "Here, drink the tea. With any luck it will help to make you sleep." The Noah watched the redhead reach up with his left hand and slowly, curiously, found the lip of the mug and followed it around in a circle, deciding how wide the container was and how deep. Once he seemed to know the dimensions again, he took the cup in his hand and moved it to his mouth, drinking the liquid within with slow, thought sips.

After about a fourth of the cup, Lavi pulled it back a little and the right side of his mouth lifted in a smile. "You make good tea." He whispered, and drank more deeply, fingers clenched a bit on the surface of the mug.

"Thank you. My coffee isn't that bad, either." Tyki offered with a smile in his voice. "Drink it all though. The chamomile should at least make you drowsy."

"I've been drowsy, this'll put me out like a light." Lavi yawned and gulped the liquid with a sudden enthusiasm; tilting the cup back enough to catch the few flakes of dried leaves that had made it to the bottom of the mug. When he was finished he held the cup out before him as if offering it to Tyki, then let it fall with his hand to the mattress beside him, thankfully facing the correct way up. With a sigh the redhead slipped lower on the headboard until his neck found the pillow again, a hand still pressed to the surface of his forehead. "Is there… anything I can do to repay you for this?" He asked at an upward, slightly wrong angle, leaning into the touch against his skin.

For a moment Tyki was silent in response. In the light of the lamp seeping from beside the bed, the redhead looked distinctly pale, weak, breakable, _hurt_ – even Lavi had to know that.

Lavi could only wonder what it was that the larger man saw besides his weakness.

"Heal. Rest." Tyki whispered, and his fingers tangled themselves once more in those strands of auburn, curling enough to be felt as more than a teasing caress of uncertainty. "And remember."

-- -- --

**TBC?**

**(Updates will be slow until TWS comes to an end.)**


	2. Everything's Vacant

**Installment numero dos! So it occurred to me that there might be people who are reading this who haven't read anything else by me – or at least I noticed a few names I've never seen before in the reviews. Thus I thought I'd introduce me a little this time!**

**I'm Niamh (pronounced Neev for those of you who don't read Gaelic), I'm a college student, and currently very poor. I don't eat wheat, rye, barley, spelt, or dairy products, and I have a strong love for non-con, romance, sweet slow lovemaking, vegetables, and chocolate. I'm pretty normal otherwise! :3**

**And now ficage!**

**Warnings: Fluffy shounen-ai. Lavi being needy and touchy feely and kissy and sad. Tyki being a contradiction.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray-man. If I did… **

-- -- --

Chapter Two: Everything's Vacant

The second day went much like the first, though Tyki tried his hand at eggs and successfully burned them for breakfast and managed to under cook the meat he made for dinner. Lavi slept most of the time that he wasn't eating, a bit feverish in the evening, waking often from strange, startling dreams that he could never remember the content of. The third time he woke screaming, Tyki stoked the living room fire, grabbed the blankets from his bed and a throw pillow and decided that camping on Lavi's floor was better for both of them. It wasn't the best thing for his spine by any means, but it took only a softly spoken word for the blind Exorcist to take comfort from his presence.

The next morning, the fever came back again, worse. Tyki tried to keep the boy plied with cool wash rags and warm tea and water, what remained of the chicken broth when meals came. The afternoon contained very little conversation, though that had more to do with the fact that it was hard to tell when Lavi was sleeping and when he wasn't with his eyes covered. Night saw his temperature rise to dangerous heights, enough so that Tyki forced the boy to wake and drink water for fear that he would dehydrate, begin to cough in order to moisten his lungs, and come down with pneumonia. It was only an hour before dawn that the fever broke and Lavi slept unbothered, and even then the Noah stayed up to watch over him, changing bloodied bandages and watching the slow rise and fall of the Exorcist's chest. By midmorning he fell asleep draped against the redhead's bed, a wet rag in one hand, the blanket he had used to keep warm clenched in the other.

So on the third morning when Lavi woke feeling sore and mildly ill and a bit like he needed to find the bathroom, his hand found the top of Tyki's head before he could so much as whisper for assistance. The older man did not stir beneath his touch, nor did he immediately feel the urge to pull away and apologize for the accidental brush of contact – instead he let his hand move slowly through Tyki's hair and, eventually, down the length of the man's braid. From there he felt the opposite side of the bed, searching for the edge.

He remembered that he had been sick, though how sick he didn't know. He remembered Tyki waking him to give him food and water, as well as the occasional changing of the cloth that had rested on his forehead. That meant, if he was right, that the older man had nursed him slowly back to health until he had collapsed in exhaustion himself, unable even to move back to his place on the floor.

If the man was willing to do that much, then Lavi could at least find his way to the bathroom without waking him. Maybe. With luck. And something to lean on.

The redhead's right ankle had been set and splinted using what felt under his fingers like parts of an old dining room chair, wrapped in what might have been cloth and an obliterated coat hanger. A cast like that – if it could even be _called­_ a cast – wasn't about to hold his weight for more than a minute.

All the same he reached out of the bed and found the corner of _something_. It was wooden, taller than a nightstand and the headboard, and a bit of feeling around lead him to believe it was a half-empty bookshelf, decorated with little more than a candle that was thankfully unlit when he knocked it over. That, at least, would serve as a means by which to pull his weight from the mattress before he found something to use as a replacement for his right leg.

Turning so his feet hung to the floor started a throbbing in his right leg, and his shoulders protested agonizingly when he lifted both of his arms over his head enough to grab a hold of the shelf he intended to use to move. When he pulled downward, straining, a little hiss of pain made its way through his teeth and he heaved himself up on his left foot, which felt oddly unsteady on the carpet. The room felt off center, or tilted, like someone had placed it in the middle of a slightly unbalanced lazy Susan. He teetered to the right a bit before he leaned more heavily on the shelf, trying to still the movement of the world around him with will alone.

By the time he had gathered the strength to hobble the length of the bookcase, his arms were shaking. This was a bad thing to try without knowing where the bathroom was, he realized a little too late, and reached out for anything at all to lean on, anything to grab a hold of and use to his advantage.

He leaned out from the bookcase, waving his right arm slowly out to the side of him. Too far – the shelf leaned with him. Between his weight and the angle, the bookshelf made to fall into him crush him, dime novels and the lone candle sliding off of it as he let out a sound of protest, tripping himself before the shelf could tumble with him.

He expected pain. And a lot of noise. Instead he felt a short sting of discomfort where his hands hit the floor, and then nothing – not even a ripple of air against his skin.

"You shouldn't try to get up yet." The voice was behind him, tired sounding, and something thumped as if against the wall. "Only one leg, no idea where anything is, and still at risk for a fever… I wonder if you were this idiotic before you hit your head."

"You were sleeping and I didn't… want to wake you."

"Hungry?"

"Bathroom," Lavi tensed at the curve of an arm under his chest, lifting him easily to stand on his left foot, strong and solid and somehow painless. He felt tired from his excursion, but not enough so to just go back to bed to wait until his desire to use the facilities was beyond ignoring. To his surprise, however, Tyki gently brushed over any wounds he thought might have opened and then provided him with a hand to hold on to and lean on in place of a crutch.

Tyki's voice was very close to his face, and a soft line of black-purple light danced across his right eye at it. "I would carry you, but you'll learn where it is better walking there more or less by yourself. If you cannot go on at any point, just tell me."

Lavi nodded. "Ok. Um… you don't have to do this. I can just… use a pan if that's easier."

"Nonsense, my cooking is bad enough without putting _urine_ in my dishes."

"None of your cooking has been outright terrible… and the tea was good…"

"I have to make coffee anyway. The kitchen is nearer to the bathroom than it should be. This way…" The Noah took a step forward and Lavi leaned on him enough to wobble forward on his left foot. He committed to memory the plush feel the carpet on his toes and the distance which he could travel in a single step: between the two, Lavi began to draw a floor plan in his mind starting with the bed. Six steps away, angled slightly, was the door, on the left side of which was a lamp. From the door there was a two step wide hall, the right path of which led him to a medium sized storage room that had been converted into a study with a bed. He guessed that, after he had been wounded, Tyki had moved rooms to accommodate him.

The left turn of the hallway took them seven steps and into the rear of the kitchen, two more to the end of the hall and into the bathroom. The living room, it seemed, was tacked on to the front of the kitchen with only a short distance between that pretended to be a dining room. The kitchen itself had a door to the hallway, rather than a wide open archway – something Lavi guessed was to close off the back of the house and conserve heat, or something.

Once in the bathroom, he began to add details to his mental map, trying to establish the size of the rooms relative to each other. The bathroom was small, with the toilet on the right between the bathtub and sink, the sink itself on a three-stride-wide cabinet, the sides of which felt like very old, rough tile. Holding the corner of it with his left hand, he let go of his guide and found the back of the toilet before he slipped his fingers down the lid of it and to the seat, almost the same as he had the coffee cup.

"Lavi?"

"I would rather not pee on your floor."

"Oh." The larger man made the sound as if he hadn't thought of the possibility. "Forgive me if I insult you with this but… would it be best if I helped you?"

"Let's risk it first."

"You never struck me as shy."

"I don't think I am, but that doesn't mean I want you aiming my Johnson at the toilet for me, ya know? 'Specially when I dunno how long it is."

Tyki couldn't help but laugh. The sound bounced around the small room, came back louder, and the hand he had kept on Lavi's hip to steady him tightened a little. "I can close my eyes and hold you steady, if that's—" He cut himself off with a chortle, unable to contain himself.

"Yeah right. Leave, pervert. If you here me fall, count to thirty so I can pee all over everything and then get my stuff where you can't see it."

"Really Lavi, I have no interest in your _stuff_ at the moment so—"

Lavi pushed himself up and, remembering how long Tyki's arms had felt the last he had been awake, reached out and touched the older man's face, on his cheek, which in turn caused the man to gasp. Tyki had not expected him to know where to touch. "At the moment?"

-- -- --

The Noah made a short sound of negation and stepped back, forgetting that Lavi needed to be touching him to stand on two feet, before he found himself unwillingly caught in an embrace. He could have clarified that he was being sarcastic, could have pointed out all of the things wrong that Lavi was assuming, but the words did not come. The same as strength would not lift his arms to push the boy away; his mouth would not shape the thoughts that needed to be conveyed. Yes, Lavi was young and attractive, a delicate, brightly colored toy to twist and break, but that didn't mean Tyki harbored anything beyond that desire for him, nothing but the corrupted want to bring pleasure to something that didn't want it. The impulse, the wonder of what, if anything, would happen if it happened, stopped him from being able to even bring his hands up and pull Lavi's fingers away.

"I'll… be outside if you need me." He blurted, and pushed away from the redhead, unable to do anything but walk outside.

He closed the door a little too harshly behind him.

For a long, quiet moment, Tyki stood in the hallway asking himself why it was that the apprentice Bookman's words _bothered_ him so much. The sound of tinkling water disrupted his thoughts.

Before too long water began to run and the toilet flushed, reminding him that he had coffee that needed to be brewed as well. A sound like thumping alerted him that his caffeine addiction would have to wait and he opened the door, peering in to see Lavi leaning heavily on the counter, his face dripping water, cheeks slightly flushed.

"I'm ok." His voice was a very small whisper. "I just feel dizzy." He rocked to the side, dangerously, and Tyki moved to catch him before he could fall, steadying the boy against his chest, an arm snaked beneath both of the redhead's arms. The Exorcist tried to stand with one foot but eventually gave in to leaning on the Noah, rouged cheeks growing redder. Goosebumps broke out across the backs of his hands and he clenched his jaw, fighting a fit of shivers.

"Careful…"

"I don't… feel that great…" Lavi said softly under his breath, as if speaking too loudly would make him weaker.

"Sh… you've overexerted yourself with movement. Can you make it back walking, or should I carry you?"

"I think I might throw up." There was another shiver, more pronounced than before, and Lavi's shoulders curved in with it, as if it might help.

"Don't do that, you've hardly eaten for three days." Tyki soothed, turning Lavi's face up at him the better to study his pallor.

The redhead's mouth opened and closed a few times before he could speak. "Everything is…spinning and I'm… I can't _see_ to know that everything is still. I might…" His lips were dry, Tyki could see it in the bathroom light. "I think that I should lie down."

"Your fever has come back, though it doesn't seem to be as bad as it was before. Hold on to me. Come on, up you go…" Tyki guided Lavi's arms around his own neck allowed them to hook themselves behind him, which allowed him to release his hold on Lavi's ribcage and take him more firmly by the small of his back and the curve of his knees. The redhead was dead weight the moment his left foot stopped touching the floor, his breathing deep and rapid. Fingers twined themselves in Tyki's shirt, pulling at it until the apprentice Bookman touched the skin of his nape.

The boy's fingers felt cold regardless of his fever.

"Tyki?" His name sounded against his neck as he turned out of the bathroom, walking awkwardly to avoid banging any part of the smaller man on the walls.

"What is it, Lavi?"

"I'm not going to die from this, am I?" The question was laced with fear, shot through with a sound like tiredness, so soft he couldn't make himself answer at once. Lavi trembled again, harder, and breathed deeply for a moment while he recovered, his fingers shaking on Tyki's skin. "I… don't know anything about me, or the world, or anyone else but," his voice fell even quieter, "I don't want to die. Not when… I don't know who I am. Or who… you… _ugh…"_ He broke off as they turned out of the hall and into the room, clearing his throat. "I'm being fatalistic, just – are you going to work yourself so hard watching over me that you'll fall asleep half in bed with me again? I don't mind, but you really should get sleep sometime, you know?" Lavi breathed sharply as his back came into contact with the mattress, sore shoulders pressed on the cool covers.

Tyki left his hands on Lavi's upper arms, ensuring the boy that he wasn't moving away yet. "I won't let you die, Lavi." _Not yet._

The boy shivered visibly and lifted a hand to blindly touch Tyki's hair, running down the length of his braid, memorizing the feel of it against his hand. It surprised the Noah a little that the redhead could touch him without seeing, could know where his face was and his hair and not poke out an eye or misplace his thumb. "You know, it might be easier if you can sleep where I can touch you. That way I don't wake up screaming like I did before." As Lavi suggested it, Tyki reached out and took the cup of water from the nightstand and pulled the boy's head up, encouraging him to drink half of it before he sat the container aside again. The apprentice Bookman leaned back on the bed when he was finished, swallowing what remained in his mouth.

The Noah moved the covers over the boy's body and touched the skin of his forehead, wondering what it was he should do. With his teeth pressed to his lower lip, he allowed the good to take over, to manifest itself as best as it could these days and make him slowly, uncertainly sink to the bed beside the Exorcist. Almost at once the younger man was curled against his chest, seeking warmth, and he allowed it without thought, curving an arm around the boy's shoulders like a protective shell, shading him from the light he couldn't see. Here, with his arm across the boy's bruises, Lavi would know he was there and, given enough time, Tyki might find dreams himself.

The redhead coughed softly.

Tyki ran his hand in a soothing line against his spine.

"Are you gonna let me sleep like this?"

"You know I'm here now, no matter the dreams you have. You won't have to wake me."

Lavi nodded a little. "It's… very kind of you. All of this. And I… I still feel… dizzy…" His warm forehead, slightly clammy despite its heat, moved into the curve of Tyki's throat, skin against skin. _"God,_ I wish I knew what you look like. For all I know I'm curled up next to a hot guy thinkin' about how sick I feel and not what I could be doin' if I was feeling better. Shit, do I normally come on to people so suddenly? 'Cause it seems kinda natural to try when you're holdin' me like you care or somethin'." He stopped then, awkwardly, and cleared his throat, tugging a little on Tyki's shirt.

The Noah shifted, unsure how to respond, and finally decided that he would allow himself another sliver of humanity, for his own sake, because killing the Exorcist now would make it all a waste of time on top of being a waste of anger. Gingerly, Tyki turned his face down into the redhead's hair and sighed, breathing in the apprentice Bookman's slightly sweaty scent for a moment, noting that he would have to wash the fiery locks at some point. That would be interesting, to say the least. "Get better, Lavi. Then think about it."

"Oh, I think I'm blushing."

"It's just the fever, Lavi. Rest."

"Sure. Interesting place for a fever."

-- --

Twice Lavi woke violently enough to jerk Tyki from his much needed sleep, and once had a frightful enough nightmare to wake the Noah before he did himself. After that the redhead lay in the older man's arms drifting in and out of dreams without knowledge of the change, speaking softly against the man's skin, shaking when fear took him. It seemed to the Portuguese man that Lavi had more nightmares than was fair, especially not knowing anything about what caused them. When the boy called his name, softly, and a hand pushed once more against the skin of his chest, Tyki couldn't push him away. Not anymore than he could have pushed away a frightened child.

And the redhead only held him tighter the more accepting Tyki became.

Around noon, while the apprentice Bookman was sleeping soundly, his fever broke again, leaving him shivering in a cold sweat that didn't quite pull him from sleep. Tyki left the bed and wandered into the kitchen to start coffee and fetch a dry towel, the first of which found its way into the same mugs he had used before while the towel served to wipe the moisture from Lavi's face. The boy woke not long after, trembling. And yet, despite how very weak and frightened he seemed, the redhead still managed to accept the coffee with a smile.

Sitting next to the Exorcist, sipping his beverage, Tyki no longer resisted the urge to touch the younger man every so often just because the option was there, and because Lavi took comfort in every bit of physical contact he received. Every time Tyki touched him without warning the apprentice Bookman grinned a little wider, most of the deeper bruises having faded to the point that they did not hurt so terribly when he accidently came into contact with one.

Conversation was slow, being Lavi never knew what he knew about until Tyki brought it up, but before long they had discussed dime store novels and the scientific composition of the rocks most commonly found in silver mines, as well as the fact that people – collectively – could be dumber than sheep in the right circumstances. The topics changed almost effortlessly, ideas moving at a pace that Tyki could follow regardless of his lack of study habits, until he found himself intrigued by the depth of the younger man's knowledge, watching Lavi explain things with hands that he couldn't see. That was perhaps the oddest part of it all – the Exorcist knew what things looked like and never confused one visual idea for another, even if he could not remember his own face and hair.

It was while he was watching the boy drink the last of the coffee that Tyki felt the smallest twinge of regret. If Lavi remembered, if the boy recalled his past, Tyki would regret having to kill him even after so few days together. It made him sad to think about it. He would gain nothing from keeping him alive, it was true, but he would gain and lose in equal amounts if he killed him.

When he had just started to sink into thoughts he should not have allowed himself to entertain, the redhead turned his face a little and reached out to him, taking Tyki by the tips off his fingers. Silently the Noah prayed that there was some logical reason for the touch and not something along the lines of what had taken place in the bathroom. The fingers that touched him were shaking and cold, so he twined his own through them in the hope of making them warmer.

"Tyki…" Lavi's voice had not lost any of its charm, "Who is Noah?"

It was all the Portuguese man could do to keep from pulling his hand away with a hiss of negation.

"I… remember part of one of my dreams…" The redhead went on. "And there's… I dunno… this really short old guy yelling at someone named _Noah_, and I can't tell what he's saying. Whatever it is though, he doesn't like what's happening. And his voice is huge, somehow." He fidgeted, closing his hand a little more on Tyki's. He was unsure. He _wanted_ it to be a memory.

And the Noah knew that it was.

'_Tyki! Stop it!' The white haired Exorcist had screamed at him, screamed without a thought for his voice. His face was blood covered, the girl beside him doubled over at the painful sight in front of her, fear staining her face when tears would not. And Tyki's right hand, gloved and steady, stayed wrapped firmly around the redhead's heart, his left hand holding him by the space behind his eyes. 'He can't see, you know!? He can't fight blind. He can't! There's no reason… no…reason…' Tyki had squeezed his fingers just to watch the blood seep from the dying boy's mouth._

'_Don't do this!'_

_He would always be so naïve._

'_Don't kill him!'_

_And Tyki would never feel sorry for any of them._

'_NOAH!'_

"Tyki?" Lavi's voice pulled Tyki back to the moment, back to the place where he had wrapped his fingers around the boy's hand, pulling him gently closer. The Exorcist managed to look confused from behind the fabric covering his eyes. "You ok?"

For a short moment the Noah was silent, mouth open without sound. With a harsh clearing of his throat he let his hand spread on the back of Lavi's, just as close as before without the desperateness he had shown not long ago. "I… am sometimes called Noah." He admitted at length and the hand in his turned palm up, encouraging him. "Tell me… what happens in the dream?" He prodded gently.

Lavi nodded without hesitance. "There's the old guy, and a tall dark figure, and after he yells, everything goes crazy. There are these people with knives coming at me, and there's… this… _thing_ that's after me too, but it's not like the people. I don't want to hurt the people but the thing…"

"Thing?"

"It's… human looking but… it's _not _human. It's more than that. And even though it will hurt me if I get close, I still have to be close to it… maybe I'm supposed to save it…I don't like thinking about it."

"Lavi," Tyki didn't think as he rocked forward on his knees and brought their faces very close together, a hand curving around the back of the redhead's neck. It was an intimate position, his own idea, and Lavi's lips parted softly, rouge blossoming across his cheeks. "If I told you that what you're remembering is a lie, would you believe me?" The whispered question brought Lavi's face upward a little, so near to his own that he could feel the boy's breath against his lips. He should have pulled away, should have killed him, should have plunged his hand into the younger man's chest and yanked out his beating heart.

But the apprentice Bookman leaned forward and softly, timidly, kissed him, and all thoughts of what he _should_ do dissolved in a grunt of confusion. Lavi withdrew painstakingly slowly, his emotions completely unreadable across half of his face. "Of course I would, Tyki." There wasn't a shred of doubt in his voice, "I trust you."

Despite himself the Noah leaned forward and pulled the Exorcist to his chest, unable to understand what emotion willed him to do it.

The apprentice Bookman returned the embrace with a soft chuckle of amusement, arms curled enough to cocoon the larger man's back in blankets. "Besides, if the world is really as messed up as my dreams, I think I'd rather you let me die at this point. Everything would be… bad. But it's not like that, right? We still… I have you, right?"

Tyki closed his eyes and did the only thing he could think to. "You do."

Lavi made a happy sound in the back of his throat. "I wonder what would have happened if someone else had taken back with them like you did," the redhead whispered. "I wonder if I only feel comfortable touching you and hugging you and hearing your voice because it was you who found me or… if there's something…. Sorry, I shouldn't have—" Fingers, warm and large and gently guiding, tilted his head back as Tyki moved to return the shy brush of lips against his, just enough to make him part his lips in yearning. He was left without more for the moment, warm breath parting over the edges of his mouth.

"If I kiss you back… you don't know what I look like, Lavi, let alone who I am."

The redhead didn't move, but his eyes tried to blink from behind the gauze. "Isn't regret a risk that everyone runs? Even if I knew you, if you changed I might regret having kissed you. This is no different." He reached out and fingered the hem of Tyki's shirt, his face at the exact same angle it had been. "Maybe… it is naïve of me to want to kiss you. And lay close to you. You know? Places where I can feel your heartbeat and… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kissed you. I'm sor—" He couldn't go on when Tyki's mouth covered his, a curious tongue slipping against his own, teasing before it moved away, tempting him to return the touch behind the older man's teeth. It went on for what felt like a small eternity, his fingers still pinched on Tyki's shirt, a hand pressed to the middle of his chest.

There was something keenly innocent to the touch, something delicate and tender that made things less awkward when they pulled away, fingers still on his chin, a hand still on his torso, and fire burning behind his eyes. Tyki moved both palms to the curve of Lavi's neck and gave him a small, half desperate sort of hug.

Lavi returned it with a brush of his fingers against the larger man's stomach.

"We can't do this."

"I know. I'm sorry. It just seemed…" Lavi's voice cracked around the words, unable to steady them.

Tyki couldn't even soothe him properly, not at the moment. "Rest, Lavi. I have to go out and get groceries, but I'll be back before too long. Can I trust you not to hurt yourself while I'm gone?" Tyki's words were punctuated with a press of his forehead to the corner of Lavi's mouth – not that he meant to do it.

The apprentice Bookman nodded, tried to smile. "Come back in case I have to pee, 'kay?"

Not come back soon. Not come back eventually. Just _come back_.

"Of course, Lavi." Tyki brushed his fingers through the front of the boy's hair, watching it fall back to where it had been beforehand, fire and red sunlight on the bandage over his eyes. "I'll come back and give you a much needed bath, if you don't mind me seeing you completely and utterly naked for about a half an hour while I wash your hair and clean your wounds." Tyki moved away and Lavi let him, their hands falling away with reluctance. The younger man didn't follow the motion with his face but his fingers curled in the blankets around him.

"Ok. Be safe." He didn't blush this time.

"I always am."

-- --

Nothing was going as planned. Tyki didn't think of himself as a stupid man, but his decisions over the last few days seemed to want to prove him otherwise. Not only had he comforted the Exorcist – something that he was growing used to – he had also kissed him. On the lips. Kissed a younger man on the lips. Kissed an Exorcist on the lips. Kissed an eternally sworn enemy on the lips. It was a trivial thing. Just a kiss. Just a bit of intimacy and trust between them.

Because Lavi trusted him. Lavi had wanted, somehow, to be that close.

With a sigh and a shiver, the Noah turned down the street with his coat pulled around his shoulders. It was a fine spring day, but that didn't mean much here in the north, warm and cold tended to be relative. Though it wasn't raining or snowing at the moment, a harsh north wind was baring down on the city, bringing with it late frost and early fog, wind whipped clouds and large blue chunks of sky. The weather wouldn't last. Before summer it would likely rain for two months.

Tyki wondered if Lavi would remember rain or be frightened of it. The Noah doubted he would have forgotten.

When he thought about Lavi, he didn't know what to do. The boy didn't remember anything, and if he _did_ remember, eventually, he would know exactly who and what Tyki was. It wouldn't mean anything – the kiss, the tenderness, the understanding – it would all just be one big _lie_. But that was alright, it didn't mean anything to begin with. But if Lavi _didn't _remember, what would they do? If the boy opened his heart to the enemy without knowing it, what would he do?

Tyki kicked a lump of mud from his path as he turned down Main Street, incapable of making a choice now. As reluctant as he was to admit it, he wasn't adverse to either circumstance, the part that could have simple emotions without questioning his desires, was _fond_ of the redhead. That part of him didn't particularly care who or what the boy was, it wanted to know him better and understand. It was convinced that things could be fine, if only they went on exactly as they had before.

After all, did it matter _why_ he had taken the Exorcist if he didn't, in the end, torture and kill him as planned?

Without thinking about what he was buying, Tyki went about his grocery shopping, ignoring humanity for the most part. His mind was on the young man he had left on the bed in his room, and the fragile quality he had but never showed.

Were they all that breakable? Or was it just this one?

Whatever the case was, he didn't know that he wanted Lavi to break anymore. At least the white didn't think it would be _fun_ like someone else might. Cheating and gambling and laughing about dirty jokes with the boy – that was what the white _wanted_ when it managed to want anything but warm food and friendship.

_I suppose I shall have to wait,_ Tyki thought as he placed an early ripe tomato into his bag._ If he becomes attached to me and realizes who I am, he might hurt more than any physical torture could ever make him suffer. But if he's alright with it, if he understands why I wouldn't tell him…_

He wanted to smile and gut something. The urge was almost undeniable.

_I will wait._

-- --

Lavi wobbled his way to the bathroom before he accidentally found himself in the kitchen, having taken the turn in an effort to find a place to sit before he hobbled back to the room and fainted from exertion. It was there that he found three chairs at a four person table, the missing forth of which was _on_ the table, minus two legs and a back. Next to that he found a bowl of fruit, a knife, hammer, and torn up cloth – the things Tyki had used to cast his leg, it seemed.

He pushed the smaller objects aside to give himself a place to lay his face and arms to rest. He couldn't just _sit_ in the bedroom and wait for Tyki to come back, playing with the plush fabric of the topmost blanket under his hands. Not alone. Being alone – not having the steady sound of another human being near him – brought back all of the nightmares and all of the dreams he had had since he had come here. It didn't matter when Tyki was here to tell him the truth, to hold him in a gentle embrace and guide his weakened body across the house, but it mattered now.

There were faces in his head that didn't have names, conversations that didn't have topics, arguments that he didn't have a side for anymore. None of it made any sense to him. None of it fell into order. And thinking about himself, his purpose, what he wanted to do, who he loved – it all gave him nothing but a blank, black slate and the feeling that _someone _had been there once, someone he knew a lot about. The emptiness stretched on and on and on before him, starting with the date of his birth and ending when he had come here, waking to the feeling of painful fingers on his face.

Tyki had found him. And brought him here. And saved him. That he could fill in for himself, but the rest of it, the past wouldn't come to mind between them.

But with that kiss…

They hadn't been lovers before, he understood that, but that didn't stop his mind from wondering. The touch of a hand on his jaw, the warmth the man put off, hair dancing slowly through his fingertips – _God_, it felt so good. And he liked Tyki – for his kindness most of all, but also for the smile in his voice and the way he talked, as well as the conversation. Touching, the press of a chest against Lavi's face, that was good, too.

He sighed across the table and let out a tiny whimper. Thinking about the older man made him feel very, very alone without him. Outside of the house was a mystery to him and, to make matters worse, he hadn't even found the front door yet. He wasn't a prisoner here, but he felt a bit like one. The only thing he knew about the house was that nearly everything felt like wood or tile, and the bed was very soft.

His right eye started to hurt a little, though not enough to make him want to rub it. The salve's numbing properties were starting to wear off. He tried to ignore it – tried to pick out something else to focus on, but it didn't want to work at the moment.

Distantly, a pair of voices started in the back of his head.

'_But doesn't that qualify as _interfering_ a little?'  
'Bookmen do not end wars and do not stop them, there is nothing stated about fighting them.'  
'Then what happens if we find out my Inno—'_

"Fuck," Lavi breathed the curse softly against the table, louder than the voices in his head. He'd only been thinking about the pain in his eye, not trying to recall a conversation he'd had with someone he couldn't remember. His brain went and did it for him, and he squinted his eyes at it unthinkingly, which hurt more than leaving his face alone had.

'_Oi! Bean sprout!'  
'Shut up!'  
'Look! Snow! Let's go make snow angels!'  
'Yeah!'  
'Che. You two are like children…'_

"Stop it. I don't know these people."

'_Deak.'  
'Did you just call me my previous log name?'_

"Stop it."

'_Don't get too close, the artillery isn't all that careful where they fire.'  
'Yes, Grandpa!'_

With a groan Lavi pushed himself away from the table and stood up on his wobbly left foot, hating the fact that he couldn't walk to the bedroom properly on his own, and laid his right hand on the back of the nearest chair, which felt softer than the rest. Curiously, even though sitting again was awkward and required him to hobble without the use of his right leg, he relocated to the chair, running curious fingers down the fabric to the end of it. All the while little bits of conversation leaked into his mind, pointless, none of them as understandable as the ones that had come before, until he found a line of buttons and, from there, the collar of a shirt. Lavi pulled it up to his face and, before he knew what he was doing, smelled it to find out whom it belonged to.

_Tyki._ It smelled just like him, if a little dusty and sweaty. The fabric was soft, though thick, and the touch of it against Lavi's cheeks reminded him of the bruises that had healed on his cheek bones, the swelling that had gone down in his lips. It didn't hurt to bury his face in the material and breathe in, drowning his thoughts in the knowledge that this was something solid, someone he knew, a memory he could cling to no matter the circumstances. Tyki, for some reason, didn't have a voice like the others did.

A little smile lifted his lips. He liked Tyki, too, that most likely helped a little. The others… he couldn't care if he couldn't remember.

"I didn't realize you liked me that much."

"_Ah!"_ Lavi kicked himself back into the table with his left foot – hard – and winced as the contact of his spine on the wood, more painful than he would have anticipated. Tyki's voice wasn't two feet in front of him and he hadn't even heard a foot fall, or the door open, but now the crinkling of a paper bag filled his ears. He felt himself blushing. He also felt the shirt still fisted in his hand. "It's not what you think it is!" Lavi protested, holding the garment at arms length. "I went to the bathroom and I was tired, so I sat down and _this_ was on the back of the chair. I… didn't know if it was mine or what so I just—_!_" He stopped at the sudden press of a weight on his head, pushing his hair over his eyes. It horrified him, for some reason, the same as it made him smile.

Tyki chuckled, holding the bag in one hand, his other petting Lavi as if he were nothing but a house pet in need of affection. "You kissed me once already, you don't have to defend the act of smelling my shirt when you're alone."

"Tyki, that wasn't—"

"Hungry?" The older man went on, removing his hand as he walked to what had to be the counter. Lavi listened as he put the bag down four steps away, heard the crinkle of paper as the older man began to empty it onto the counter.

Lavi felt him wander by on the way to a cabinet and took a moment to wonder what kind of theme the room had, it sounded like wood, but the floor felt like tile. "Maybe. Why? Did you buy a cookbook?"

Tyki snorted. "No, but anyone can make salad. Do you like salad?"

"No idea."

"I suppose we'll have to see." The larger man stopped with the paper sack and came back in front of the redhead, the breeze from his movement warning the apprentice Bookman of his approach. Before Tyki could reach for him, however, Lavi touched his hip, and from there his lower left arm, pulling him gently closer. The Noah let himself be brought close without protest, though he walked reluctantly at the fingers that paused in his elbow and slowly, brought his forearm against the boy's forehead. "Lavi?" He questioned, very softly. "Are you feeling alright?"

"My eyes hurt." Lavi answered steadily, fingers curled tightly. "But I mostly wanted to ask you something."

A hand ran through Lavi's hair and he relaxed into it, sighing out his insecurities.

"What is it?" Tyki asked almost at once, a note of something like expectancy in his voice.

"What are Bookmen?"

-- -- --

**TBC? You like?**

**Anyone noticed the title theme?**

**Reviews are love!**


	3. A Thousand Lies

**I found out just now that today – St. Patrick's Day – is LUCKY DAY! I think it should henceforth be the start of Lucky WEEK (Yullen gets a whole freakin' week, why not Lucky?) but that's just my opinion. For that reason, here is the chapter!**

**I lack a beta for this story. If anyone wants to volunteer, please note that I'm sorta picky what you want me to change, and I will argue and spoil and stuff… so… BE WARNED!**

**Other WARNINGS: GORE. Death. Murder. Under-aged whoring. And a lil NAKED.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray – Man. If I did… butterflies wouldn't be the only tease in the story.**

-- -- --

A Thousand Lies

For a moment, Tyki felt his heart sink into his gut and stay there, beating with a furiousness that made him slightly nauseous. He looked down at the boy touching his arm and tired to determine what kind of question that was, and how much Lavi knew. He knelt before he could stop himself, and touched the side of the boy's face more surely, feeling the way Lavi's eyebrows pushed together under the bandage, furrowed in what might have been confusion. Tyki thought the expression was a bit pained, and the dried brown blood on the right of Lavi's face told him it likely was. Between the boy's borrowed black pants and white button up shirt, he looked as pale as death but not nearly as certain.

"I should change—"

"Tyki," Lavi said the name with an authority the Noah had never heard before. "Tell me about the Bookmen."

The older man swallowed thickly and his touch moved to the redhead's chest, playing over his heart again. Nothing. The smaller male didn't even flinch. If he knew anything, he didn't know to be frightened. That was good. Maybe there was still time.

"They're an order of individuals responsible for the recording of history – _correct_ history, especially war. You were one of them." Tyki watched Lavi turn his face down in thought and went on, the better to kill two birds with one stone. "You had a mentor. The two of you were always together, unless something separated you for some reason." And there could have been remorse in the Noah's voice, though he tried not to show it too much, fearing he'd make the lie that much more obvious. "The day I took you… he died." He lied fluidly. "I'm sorry."

Lavi leaned into the hand on his chest. A Bookman? History? A mentor? It was too much. Tyki could see that he didn't want to be all of those things and fight a war and everything, not when he didn't remember _anything._

At least the lie would keep him from running off to find the old man on top of it all.

Tyki leaned up and gathered the boy up awkwardly, folding his arms carefully to avoid touching any part of the boy that was injured, and of the many bandages that still adorned his spine. At first the redhead didn't protest – he was tired, Tyki was close – those things tended to keep him erring more toward silence than speaking.

"Tyki," Lavi said against the older man's neck. The Noah made a humming sound of question that cued him to go on. "Did he have a name?"

"Your mentor?"

"Yeah."

Tyki laid the Exorcist's head on his shoulder, stroking slow fingers through his greasy hair, smoothing it from his face. "I don't know. I only heard him called _Bookman,_" he answered honestly. His fingers began to unwrap the bandage from Lavi's face, slowly, and the redhead remained silent until his sightless eyes came half open, dilated in the kitchen lights, hooded and unfocused.

"_Bookman,"_ Lavi whispered, and touched the fabric of Tyki's shirt with his fingers. "I'll have to remember that."

"Lavi…" Tyki turned the blind boy's face up to him, watching his bruised and reddened eyes blink weakly, not focused on anything at all, just partaking of the pastime out of habit. With a hand he wasn't sure of, he touched the right eye, skin to skin, and frowned. They were still green, almost painfully so, but the whites around them were bloodshot, and the pupils unresponsive to the light. "I'll need to get the salve, don't touch them but let them get some air. Can you… make anything out at all?" He moved his hand away and pushed himself to the side, which changed the light against the redhead's face.

Lavi settled himself more comfortably, leaning his head on the wooden back of the chair in front of him. The redhead seemed very tired, or very sick, though Tyki couldn't say which was more likely. "How come you don't want to tell me things?" Lavi questioned instead of answering.

"What?" Tyki tried to avoid honesty without slowing down to think of a half good lie.

"This… waiting thing isn't really working that well. Even the things I remember don't make sense all the time – it's driving me crazy. When you're gone, all I can do is _listen_ and all I can hear is stuff in my head that I don't understand anymore," Lavi flinched at the touch of a finger on his right cheek, just below his right eye. The press of a palm again the back of his head held him still and he breathed hurriedly, mouth slightly open to the pain in his face. There was mild confusion in his expression, which contrasted oddly with the lack of focus, as if he were lost and unable to find the sign that would lead him home.

"I don't want to shock you. I also don't want the situation to become any more awkward than it already is." Tyki answered almost awkwardly. Awkward wasn't the word their situation warranted. "What do you want me to tell you about?"

"Anything." Lavi answered at once. His fingers curled his against Tyki's shoulder.

The Noah thought about it, trying to recall when he had seen the redhead in a situation he could turn to his favor. A little smile spread across his lips and he started run his hand through Lavi's hair, watching the boy's eyes flutter at the brush of bangs on his eyelashes. "I met you on a train. I played cards against one of your friends, took everything he had, and then another of your companions did the same to me. Imagine, sitting in the middle of a train car with nothing but a cigarette and underwear, and you wide-eyed, watching." He chuckled lowly, smiling wider. "I looked at you then, came to know your face and your voice and your mannerisms. I don't know if you studied me the same as I did you, but… I'm rambling. The next time I met you, you didn't recognize me; I looked very different."

"How so?"

"Back then I had stubble, to start. Paler, cheaper clothes, glasses."

"You're tan?"

"I prefer the term _olive_ over tan."

"Ooh." Lavi turn his head slightly to the right, away from the Noah's hand, and blinked, a small smile spreading over his face. He looked very different with his eyes exposed and that expression, the white of his teeth, green of his eyes, and red of his hair painting him in an oddly festive light. His right iris, Tyki noted, was a bit closer to yellow than the left, but that didn't seem to have anything to do with the injury he had suffered. Perhaps it was the eye patch, or the reason it was worn, the Noah didn't know. Mayhap it had been blind to begin with. "I don't remember meeting you but… in your skivvies? Now I really wanna remember…"

"You have one thing on your mind all the time don't you?"

Lavi turned back again, still grinning. "Not really. But if could remember seeing you then, I wouldn't have to worry about what your body looks like, or your face, or your skin. It'd be in my head and I'd know what _this_," he reached out and touched Tyki's hair, knowing exactly where it was without seeing it. "Looks like, not just what it feels like or how it smells." Lavi finished in a whisper.

Tyki framed the sides of the boy's face, turning it away from the light, and the redhead blinked more, as if trying to discern the darker shape of Tyki's face in front of him. It was obvious that it didn't work, as the mismatched pair of emeralds before him remained unfocused, as if staring through him, or seeing something between them that the Noah didn't know was there.

A little hiss of air parted the apprentice Bookman's lips.

Tyki's breath urged Lavi slowly forward until the Noah felt skin brush the side of his cheek and hair tickle the bridge of his nose. "If you are always blind," Tyki's whispered into Lavi ear, regretful. "And you never remember my face; I will describe myself to you until you are satisfied with what you see in your mind."

Lavi shifted forward a bit, laying himself across the larger man's chest, arms draped at his sides. The redhead was very quiet for a moment and the Noah pulled him closer, dragging his finger through the back of the boy's hair. The apprentice Bookman's frown was obvious in his voice, low and frightened. "That's really sweet, Tyki," he whispered, and the Portuguese man shushed him. "But I'd rather see you for myself. I mean…I'd rather be blind forever than die. I don't… have a good reason, but I _can't_—_"_

Tyki shushed him again, more loudly, and rocked the young man, damning the chair back between them. His fingers curled in Lavi's clothes and he pulled him close enough to feel the wood biting into his ribcage. "I told you, I won't let you die," his own shirt wrinkled, clenched in the boy's hands. "But right now… I need to go out again. I forgot something."

"What did you forget?" Lavi asked, and he traced a hand down the Noah's jaw with the words.

"Meat."

-- -- --

Tyki left as soon as Lavi was set up with a small supply of carrots – which he seemed to have an affinity for – and the poultice had been reapplied to his eyes, which had been a slightly more silent process than usual. Tyki was thankful for that, and also thankful that the boy hadn't asked for details about his errand or insisted on wishing him well this time. Their farewells had been short and nearly silent. The oddity of the blind Exorcist waving at him would be forever in his mind, a contradiction that he could only react to with something of a wry smile. An Exorcist, blind, waving, from that house – there were just too many things wrong with that.

The house they were situated in was not far from anything in town, which he found appealing, and had been paid for by none other than the Akuma that had previously inhabited it. It was more or less his now, or maybe the Earl's, being the Akuma had been destroyed in the line of duty. It didn't really matter who the house belonged to – it was still pretty from the outside, white with lattice on either side of the door, a short wooden porch, and three shallow steps to the sidewalk. The accents were done in pale blue, which wasn't his favorite color but would suffice, while the flower beds sported what he thought of as his lazy spring garden – composed mostly of pleasantly budding weeds and spring flowers. The house was still only a quarter mile from the open market and another half from the train station, the steeple of the local church visible between the two. Tyki turned away from the train station and the church and the market, and headed in the direction of the local pub.

The street was a steamy, damp, cool, half empty strip of town, but Tyki didn't see it. His thoughts were a confused uproar of violent demands and irritated inquires, all of which – even the light – would die away if he did something to distract himself from the weak, gentle _Exorcist_ in his house, waiting for death and soothing. Soothing. How many times had he soothed the redhead? How many stupid, human things had he said? Tyki didn't know. With the afternoon sun on his back, and the fire of _anger_ and _hate_ and _fear_ in his chest, he turned his golden eyes to the alleyways, searching for a loiterer, or a drunk. Anyone would do, he didn't feel picky at the moment. Someone he could pick into pieces. Something he could crush. A human like Lavi, maybe with his same red hair, and vital organs for him to wrap his fingers around.

Maybe the Noah wouldn't go that route though. It was sometimes interesting to pull a person apart from the outside, starting with their skin.

He came to the pub and walked passed it, nearing the slightly more seedy part of town now. His fingers were twitching in his pockets when he turned into a shadow and spotted a person crouched low, a scraggly dark coat hanging over their too-thin shoulders.

"_Excuse me?"_ His voice came out silky and saccharine as he turned his eyes around them. Brick buildings dominated this part of town, so he was a bit surprised to see the leaning lumber of the wall to his right, the crumbling thatch above it.

The body in front of him turned and showed a face that was too young and too small – a boy of perhaps thirteen, with bright blue eyes and dirty brown hair. The flat quality to his nose and the hollows under his eyes put a halt in Tyki's step, which was lucky – a rat skittered just where he was going to lay his foot.

He couldn't kill a child, he didn't think. Not one that he didn't have a reason to kill.

The boy stood up and his too large coat gathered on the muddy ground around his feet. "Sir?" The blue eyed child's teeth were crooked behind his lips, but he still had manners. "I'm not working now, but I'll still do it for pay n'a half."

The Noah's stomach dropped and he felt the stigmata start to spread across his forehead. A smile lifted his lips, inhumanly large, but it didn't seem like the boy could see, being the Noah was lit from behind by the sun. "Who is it that takes a margin of your pay to feed and house you?" Tyki breathed lowly, trying to keep the smile from his voice.

"Bernadette. She's in the big brown house up the street. She doesn't suck though, if that's what you—"

A growl sounded in Tyki's throat at the idea and he acted without mercy. The sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a groan, and he pinned the brown haired boy against the wooden wall he stood beside, holding his boney shoulders with bruising fingers. The coat was no obstacle – corduroy, now that Tyki looked at it, and in good condition if not for the dirt – and it the shirt beneath it was even thinner. By the time his right hand had pushed through skin the boy was taking in air, fear obvious on his features, eyes round with perfect fright. The little whore had thought him that low and now he looked frightened. Those eyes that had no more innocence in them, no more fear for anything – Tyki had made them look like that.

The child was a beautiful child with that expression, his soft round face made round by the opening of his mouth, the color of his crystalline eyes contrasted with the red of his kiss-bruised lips.

It was as if everything was forgiven, except that he couldn't stop now.

His right hand found the soft, wet, papery tissue of a lung and he crushed it, which brought a horrible, bloody and strangled cry to the boy's lips. Tyki didn't let him fall. Instead he pulled the destroyed organ out, sticky blood oozing into his sleeve, into his glove, up the side of his jacket. He didn't care for once. Instead he plunged his hand in again, intent on ripping as much out of the stupid prostitute as he could before the light faded from those dazzling, endless blue eyes.

The Noah laughed softly as he pulled the stomach, enjoying the soft wet sound it made seeping through the boy's flesh. The scream that sounded was half hearted – burbled through a mouthful of blood – and another, harsher laugh seeped from the Noah's lips.

"Did you really think I wanted you to service me, _boya?_" Tyki whispered, and let the blood filled bag of flesh roll from his bloody fingertips. He plunged his hand inside again, feeling about for something else. "Did you think me as low as the rest of your Johns?"

The liver. That organ was bigger than most people gave it credit for, and had a pleasant texture against his skin. With a snigger Tyki dragged it away from the membrane on the inside of the boy's ribcage. It was just so amusing to watch the boy still try to look up at him and breathe. Humans really were stupid, really were weak, really were _nothing_ in the great scheme of things. And when he pulled out the heart – the ever important heart – it reminded him just how irritatingly fragile they were. Even if the heart refused to stop pumping in his hand until after the young man whom it belonged to was already dead, it didn't matter. Separate the heart from the body and it was just a living, beating lump of useless flesh, the same as the rest.

With the muscle in his right palm and his left hand fisted in the dead boy's hair, he drew in a deep, satisfyingly blood scented breath, and closed his eyes.

Killing really was so much fun.

He felt better already.

With a smile he dropped half of his spoils and looked down at himself, frowning at his soiled clothes. It had only been since the Walker boy's case that he had taken to ripping out the organs of all of his victims by hand, gloves be damned, and only since the Ark that he had really grown to appreciate the smell and taste of blood, the feel of it on his skin. Sticky, and salty, and warm. It made him shiver. He would have to soak his jacket to get the smell out and throw away the white shirt beneath it – it wasn't worth the artful process of rejecting the blood from the fabric at the moment. Not when he had others.

With a sigh he looked back at the poor human that had assumed him as low as the rest of them and frowned, dropping the child's small, twitching red heart next to his corpse. It hadn't been the boy's fault, but it was too late to regret it now. And the brown hair the boy had was almost the perfect shade now, soaking in a puddle of his own lifeblood.

"If I see Bernadette…" Tyki whispered to the body, looking at his bloodied right hand with a soft smile. He licked a finger and grinned wider, satisfied with the flavor. "I'll make her death more painful than yours was. _I promise."_

-- -- --

Lavi got through two and a half carrots before he quit and took a nap, because he didn't have much else to do and it sounded better than listening to the disembodied voices in his head. His dreams were confusing, featuring none of the people those voices belonged to. This time though, he had something to combat those faces he didn't know and the concepts he didn't understand – he had Tyki's abandoned shirt tucked under his pillow, radiating the man's scent for when he needed to hide his face in it.

He was just starting to drift into a Tyki scented dream – based around his ideas of what the man looked like – when he heard water running in the kitchen and a low, muffled curls. A smile lifted his lips.

"Tyki?" He said the name a little more loudly than he would have in conversation and pushed himself up to sitting. The water stopped running and footsteps thumped their way down the hall, almost lumbering compared to Tyki's usually silent gait. Lavi closed his fingers on the soft maroon fabric of his comforter – he had asked what color it was and now thought _maroon_ whenever he touched it – and waited for the older man to come in.

"Yes, it's me," Tyki's voice sounded light but thick somehow, as if he had come back from a refreshing run. "I should have told you I was back as soon as I came in, I was distracted." The footfalls approached the bed, and with them came an eerily familiar scent, heavy and metallic in the air around the holder man, enough so to make Lavi's tongue want to stick to the roof of his mouth.

"Hey, are you ok?" He pushed back the blankets, intent on finding out what it was that smelt so much like blood. "How come you smell like… death, Tyki. My God, you reek of…" He stumbled onto his left foot only to have a wet, warm hand push him back onto the plush of the mattress, another pressed to his right shoulder. They held firm when he tried to get up again, and only grew tighter when he gripped his hands in the older man's shirt, which felt wet and warm against his hands. "Tyki, what happened? This is blood isn't it?" He was asking questions – had been asking questions – but the larger man didn't answer, or even try to calm him, no matter what came out of his mouth. Worry began to fill the redhead's gut.

Tyki's weight shifted and Lavi let himself ease back until he was more or less horizontal on the mattress again, though perpendicular to how he was supposed to lie. There was still pressure on his shoulders, though most of it now came from the other man's palms rather than his fingers.

"Please, just tell me if it's yours, Tyki! Don't be so qui—" Lavi was more than shocked to find himself silenced by a blood flavored mouth against his own, open, hot, soft, and demanding. He gasped at it and tensed at the brush of a tongue against his own, fingers on his collarbone, fisting in his shirt. It took a moment for him to respond, slipping his tongue against Tyki's while his hands roamed over the Noah's chest, checking for wounds.

The older man, though his shirt was soaked, did not flinch beneath the redhead's touch.

Then everything was ok. It was just someone else's blood or some other thing's blood – and though that wasn't a good thing, it was better than Tyki's. There were questions that weren't answered, but they didn't matter. Not while they were kissing. Not while a hand was pressed to the smooth skin of Lavi's stomach, teasing at his hips bone. It occurred to him what was happening when he felt the press of a knee between his and he pushed back, prying Tyki's lips away from his mouth. "Careful, you might not be hurt, but I'm sore all over…" Lavi protested in a whisper, and the mouth that pressed into his neck only smiled.

"Well, if kissing hurts I can—"

"It doesn't hurt. Not at all."

Tyki chuckled, breath playing delicately across Lavi's skin. "Then please stop talking, it's rather difficult to continue when you are."

Lavi shook his head and buried a hand in the base of Tyki's braid, holding his head back. "But you're covered in blood, Tyki. What ha—_mph…_" He almost chortled into the kiss that Tyki planted firmly on his lips though not because he found the situation amusing. What amazed him was the change that had come over Tyki, his sudden willingness to kiss and not just brush, to touch the flesh of his stomach with hungry hands. It was as if he had left one person and come back another, this one interested in him physically regardless of what they knew of one another.

The Noah's hand tickled along the ridge of his ribcage and teeth pressed to the flesh of his lower lip. A low, appreciative moan left Lavi's throat. His fingers worked at the slick buttons of Tyki's shirt, feeling the gritty, gross feeling he recognized as drying blood. Before long the mouth on his lips moved lowers, nipping at his Adam's apple, and his palms were sliding over naked, wet skin, fisting in tangled, wet hair.

Tyki's mouth moved against his right collar bone, growling huskily. "I've got blood on your clothes…" He smiled a little crookedly against the redhead's skin. "You'll have to take them off."

Lavi tilted his head back and laughed softly, a grin on his lips. "As great as that sounds, I think we both need a shower. And you need to tell me why you're soaked in blood. Among other things." He let Tyki lean on him, let the Noah press his face into the turn of his neck, even if it tickled no small amount, making him shiver. The heat Tyki gave off, coupled with the play of his fingertips against Lavi's skin – it was almost enough to distract him from the problems at hand. "Where'd the blood come from?" He tried to make the question conversational despite the worry growing with every moment that the question remained unanswered. A tremble took his shoulders. "Is it human?"

The mouth on his throat moved up a bit, vibrating against his skin with hardly spoken words. "When I was walking… a boy… he made his side of the war known to me…" Tyki's voice faltered, as if he did not want to give details. "I killed him."

Lavi felt himself shift as Tyki's weight settled and a pair of strong arms twined around his hips, perfectly human, perfectly, sincere. The sudden closeness made sense to him then, as well as the press of Tyki's hands to his skin. The redhead pulled the Noah closer, damning the pain in his left shoulder. "How old was he?" The question hardly disturbed the air between them, hardly made any sound at all, hardly made the Noah's shoulders relax – but it was something.

Tyki's voice was cracked a bit with strain. "Maybe thirteen."

"How?"

"I tore out his insides." Tyki answered without further prompting, voice devoid of emotion. "I put my hand inside of his chest and ripped out whatever I could find."

"Oh God, Tyki…" The redhead gritted his teeth in an effort to ignore the pain in his shoulder. The embrace was returned. "What kind of war has soldiers that young? I don't… you shouldn't be mad at yourself for it, I mean… it's not your fault." Lavi pressed his face into the Noah's hair, bloody and sticky with gore, and found himself not caring where it had come from. "Let's both take a bath, to get the blood off, ok? You can… you can even get in with me, if you want… just… it's ok, ok?" He realized too late that his voice was wavering as if he were uncertain.

Tyki's hands, the same hands he had used to kill, moved up to frame Lavi's face. "You think…" He didn't finish. Instead he leaned down and kissed the Exorcist, just as deeply as before and pulled away with a sound that Lavi didn't know the meaning of. The Noah left Lavi on the mattress, bereft, and moved to the far side of the room – a place that the redhead had never been and so didn't know the layout of. "You think I want you to forgive me? You don't know the half of it."

Lavi recoiled at the bitter quality to Tyki's voice. "I won't know shit unless you tell me. Or are you having amnesia by osmosis?"

For a moment there was silence between them, and Lavi used the moment to pull himself up higher on the bed, wincing. Before he was halfway to the headboard there were silent, warm hands helping him, gathering him up, pulling him against a warm, solid, painfully real chest. Lavi touched the older man, knowing exactly what was sticking to his skin when he did.

"I'm sorry, Lavi." Tyki's mouth brushed the younger man's ear so that his breathed teased the hair that hung over the shell. "You don't need to tell me it's fine. There is a part of me that… is_ pleased_ by tearing the hearts from the chests of boy-whores." His tongue edged along the side of Lavi's ear, tickling it far more than his breath had, until a smile cracked his face and stopped him from going on. "But let's leave this unpleasant business until a later time, shall we? A bath will do us both more than a little good."

The redhead nodded. "Please don't… touch me when you say things like that," he breathed, but still let his face fall to the older man's shoulder. "Even if it's true, I don't… I don't want to think about that sort of existence. Not when I don't even know the good in you yet." And it wasn't a lie. The thought that Tyki, the man who nurtured him and kept him safe, might have a part of him that enjoyed hurting others was not unacceptable – but being kissed while talking about it was. Lavi found himself aware of the evils of people, of humanity, and was surprised a bit by the easiness with which he accepted and remembered them: not the events themselves but their existence. He didn't hold it against Tyki to be a bit sadistic, didn't blame him for having that part of himself.

Tyki made a sound as if to speak, but Lavi didn't want to hear it yet.

"Will you really take a bath with me? Because that's a huge step up from kissing."

The Noah laughed, and shifted so his mouth pressed to the side of Lavi's temple, so the sound vibrated through the smaller boy. "No, no, I'd rather not undo whatever healing your leg has done. Besides… I didn't even know I wanted to kiss you until… well… I suppose that's a lie."

"A lie?"

"I didn't know I _could_ kiss you and feel like I haven't known you long enough to."

"Oh." Lavi turned his head up, the shirt against his face felt wet and warm and smelled of salt and gore, heavy with someone else's lifeblood. He shivered. "Well, you can just hug me. If you like that more." He smiled a little, though how he could smile at the moment he didn't understand. "I'll take whatever I can get. I like you." He admitted, and to his slight surprise the man that held him did not respond with a withdrawal of contact, nor did he argue.

Tyki just touched the skin over Lavi's heart and pressed his face downward, sliding it down into the redhead's throat. "Thank you," his voice was little more than a whisper. "For telling me that."

-- -- --

The bathtub, once in it, was bigger than Lavi remembered. Tyki had bathed first, being the dirtier of the two, while the blind boy sat on the toilet, trying his damnedest to move the toes of his right foot. His ankle wasn't healed but it was healing, he could tell by the restlessness of his muscles around the break. It felt tight, and a bit awkward to hold in the air for more than a few minutes, but he tried not to mind the strangeness of it, the pain that blossomed warningly every time he brushed the toes against the ceramic side of the tub. Tyki left the limb wrapped, though he took the wood off, which gave the bone enough support to survive the warm water without ruining what the Portuguese man had made to protect it.

It was just one of many things done to protect the redhead.

Lavi almost had a heart attack when he realized that he could not, given the circumstances, wash his own hair. The panic was only momentary, what with Tyki saying soft, soothing things about anything but how naked he was, and those tender, killing hands pulling his wet hair away from his sore eyes before the strands could irritate them. The Noah spoke in a soft voice all the while, cupping the suds away from the redhead's forehead like he might have done with a child.

It was then, with Tyki's hands pressed one to the underside of his chin and the other holding his wet bangs from his eyes, that Lavi leaned back so that his face was directed at his caretakers, exposing the line of his throat. Like that, gentle fingers sliding on his Adam's apple, he felt a much undignified shiver take his shoulders, the left still sore at it. "Tyki," his voice was strange sounding from the steam, lower than normal, and he felt the older man draw his hand away at the sound of his name. The palm came back on the boy's chest, a layer of wash cloth between them. "What… _why_ are you so quiet?" He changed his question midway, thinking it might be a better way to go about it. The hand on his chest brushed down to his stomach but he didn't respond, intent on sitting there without word while the hand that was on his skin remained there.

It slipped to the curve of his right hip. "I'm… thinking…" The older man answered vaguely.

Lavi shifted enough to take the hand that scrubbed the blood from his skin in his palm. He blinked at nothing, just because the reflex seemed to want to happen at the moment, and squeezed the hand that wandered his naked body. From what he had felt and what Tyki had told him, he doubted the Portuguese man was too mesmerized by his wounds to respond. "About what?" He cast the question low, though _why_ he did that the redhead honestly couldn't say. It just seemed right. Seemed like what he wanted.

"Lavi…" Tyki's voice had a strange smile in it, and he felt cool, damp hair brush the side of his face as the wash cloth moved across to his belly button, washing away sweat and blood at once. "I know I kissed you quite deeply in the heat of the moment, but you really could _lay off_ a little."

"Why? Is it working?" Lavi smiled with all of his teeth, but did not join Tyki in his soft chuckle.

"No, it just worries me. What will happen if you remember everything and find yourself disinterested in me? What if you _hate_ me, Lavi? What then?"

The redhead turned his face toward the hair that tickled his cheek until he brought his mouth into soft contact with the older man's skin. Against it, smelling cigarettes and cheap soap, the sharp scent of blood somewhere beneath, Lavi spoke softly under his breath. "I'm not too worried." To his slight surprise the Portuguese man didn't lean away from him, only slipped a hand into his hair while the one on his stomach slipped lower. "And you're warm… close… maybe… maybe I was lonely before I forgot everything. Or I liked you or something. But…" He turned his face down, pressing his sore eyes against the side of Tyki's neck. "Until I remember, I'm just gonna do what comes naturally. Make sense?"

Tyki's head turned until his were lips just barely brushed Lavi's skin. "Do your feeble attempts at seduction come naturally?" His asked in a breathy whisper.

Lavi nodded. "Helps that I don't mind it. You're nice, even if you're in a war that seems unfair."

The Noah's lips were soft and sure as they kissed him, the wash cloth forgotten for the sake of cupping the side of his face. It was a strange angle, even stranger still to feel the older man's hands on him without seeing them, without knowing where they would be next. The kiss made him shift. The water swished. Before long he found himself bundled against the Portuguese man's chest, no longer kissing, the cold ceramic pressing to his right shoulder and arm, chill and yet calming. A shiver took his arms and Tyki's breath seeped down the side of his face, warm and rushed, the meaning behind it lost to him.

"Lavi," Tyki whispered, a cool palm pressed to the redhead's chest. "If you continue to do this, I do not know will what happen between us."

"Well, usually one guy gets naked and another guy gets naked and, once they're both comfortable, one of them—"

"That's not what I meant," Tyki chuckled, and the reverberation made Lavi's eyelashes dance against his bangs almost painfully. "What do you know about me? What do you remember?" He asked almost rhetorically, before his questions faded into a very quiet whisper. "I remember. The things I remember…" He laughed again. "If you were able to recall what I have done, you would not be so eager to leap into my open arms, Lavi."

"Tell me, then." To the redhead it seemed like the most logical response.

Tyki made a soft sound of amusement and kiss him again on the cheek, warm lips on clammy skin, his rough hands on the subtle flesh of Lavi's neck. "Which part? Which story? Would you like to hear how I tried to kill your friend by making a hole in his heart? Would you like to hear how it was my hand that hurt your eyes? How I laughed when I did it? How you aren't _on_ my side of the war?" The Noah's mouth moved to the boy's ear, hardly moving the air he breathed into it. "The one I killed today, he tried to sell himself to me – would have sucked my cock if I had let him – and I tore out his insides one at a time, slowly, for it. Is that the kind of thing you want me to tell you, little _Exorcist?"_ There was a motley assortment of emotions in the word, from anger and malice to sadness and what might have been heartache.

Lavi reached up, ignoring his dripping hands and exceedingly sore left shoulder, to wind his arms around the back of Tyki's neck. He didn't understand what an _Exorcist _was, but he didn't care. He pulled the older man into an embrace, blind eyes closed to the light brush of hair over his eyelashes.

"I don't believe you," he whispered, and pushed a hand into the Noah's hair, holding him firmly. "Chosen of God, Exorcist, descendent of Noah – I don't care. If I'm a demon or if you're a demon, or if I don't belong at your side…" He swallowed, unable to think of what the case would be if what the older man said was true, unable to even fathom it. The one person he knew was not allowed to be evil or bad – it would hurt too much. "I want to. Isn't that reason enough to just let forgotten things stay forgotten? If it's true… if you did those things… maybe I can forgive you for them. For the pain you might have caused me. I don't mind being blind except that I can't see you, so if you did _that_ it's fine. I don't care." Lavi heard his voice shaking and ignored it, ignored the slight rise in volume as he went on, arms tightened on Tyki's shoulders. "I like you as a person, and you're nice to me. Whatever we were before now doesn't matter, we started over when I forgot who you are. Understand?"

The older man's arms guided the redhead upward, dragging him to his left foot without further argument. "If that is how you intend to see me, then so be it." Tyki said, and it made everything he had said, every word of truth and lie, equally believable, equally impossible. Before Lavi could draw a more conclusive idea from everything, there were hands on his face, tilting it up as if the older man was trying to meet his eyes. "I will let you come to your own deductions about me, based upon what it is that I say and do, not upon what I have done." The Portuguese man's mouth pressed closed lipped on Lavi's forehead for a moment before he let go with one hand and brought back a well worn cotton towel, which felt rough on Lavi's chest.

The redhead unfolded it and wrapped it around his waist for the moment, blinking at nothing when the older man pulled away. He could only guess where Tyki's face was. It was difficult to judge when he did not pay attention to angles and touches and the swish of air on skin. "Then let's have dinner at the table tonight," he whispered, and felt the air to his right shift before another towel touched his head, rubbing his wet hair away from his face. A smirk took his lips at it, crookedly. "Together. Not on your bed."

"My bed?"

"The one I'm sleeping in that's yours."

"Oh…" Tyki's tone was a bit incredulous. "Why would you say that it's mine?"

Lavi managed to roll his eyes regardless of the fact that he could not see with them. The hands on his head stilled and he tilted his face up, aiming for the place that Tyki's voce had come from. "Because there's no way you'd sleep in that walk-in closet you made into a room at the end of the hall unless you had to. It's smaller than the bathroom."

Tyki didn't respond at once, and his voice was a bit quieter when he did. "How you figure these things out without being able to see…"

The redhead laughed softly and pointed toward the cabinet, or where he knew it to be from memory. It just made sense to him, to remember the little things, the details, the distances between on thing and another, the shape of anything he had touched. If he put his mind to it, Lavi was willing to bet that he could draw anything he had learned the shape of, even if he could remember what it looked like. "So the cabinet and sink are over there, and judging from the feel of the tile, I'd say there's a square mirror above it framed in wood, a light on the right, that way it shines down on the toilet as well. From the inside of the tub, how it's away from the wall, I'd say it's a claw-foot bath that didn't come with the house." He turned his face to the Noah then, still smiling. "You haven't lived here long, less than a year. Otherwise you'd have got a cat or something – or a bird." He finished, satisfied at the moment with his observations.

The older man made a soft sound of surprise before his hands came to Lavi's, pulling them up to his smooth, shirt-covered shoulders. "What color am I wearing?" He teased, and firmed his grip on Lavi's waist in preparation of lifting him out of the tub.

"White." Lavi answered softly, pinching the material between his fingers. "Cotton – it's starchy from the bleaching, you've never washed it. Not tailored, but close enough."

"Lavi."

"Hm?"

"You're almost uncanny." Tyki first lifted and then turned, steering the boy in the direction of the toilet with just enough pressure and speed that Lavi did not need wonder when to sit on the lid. His fingers, oddly dry, moved up the redhead's chest to his shoulders, trailing a pair line of warm parallel lines in their wake.

Lavi was terribly tempted to lean forward and press himself against the man he knew those hands belonged to, but fought off the urge. He was clinging enough without trying. "I don't know how I know these things," he said honestly, and let his eyes fall closed at the touch of hands in his hair, pulling out the worse tangles. "But the more I talk to you, the less I want them to be related to my memories. If I never remember… if I don't see… then maybe I can just be happy here with you – assuming you don't mind, I mean." The redhead reached up with his right hand and pulled the towel that still rested on his hair down to his chin. "Sometimes I wonder if I can go an hour without saying something stupid," he fumblingly put his fingers on the towel around his hips, squeezing it like a lifeline in a squall.

Tyki pulled the material away from Lavi's face and pulled it up by the turn of his jaw, fingers as slow and gentle as any human's. "Even if you remember," his words spread warm air into Lavi's hairline, "I will not throw you from my house for it. In fact…"

Lavi waited, but no more words came. "In fact?"

"Never mind, Lavi." The Noah answered almost bitterly. "I will get the things we need, alright?"

The redhead nodded. "I'll be here."

_Waiting._

-- -- --

**TBC?**

**-Giggles- I typoed that TBS. Lohl~**

**I will get the rest of the reviews, just wanted to be sure this was up on the right day. ^^;**


	4. Hands of Uncertainty

**I have reader througher person, but no real beta. D:**

**Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray – man. If I did… Lavi would such even WORSE at seduction than he already does.**

**WARNINGS: Nothing like last chapter. Fluffy angsty plot movement. And I think next chapter, this goes to M.**

**-- -- --**

Chapter Four: Hands of Uncertainty

Dinner was a green salad with carrots and crookedly cut cucumber, sprinkled with blue cheese, and served with a slightly too mustardy dressing. There were burnt rolls, and good butter, and Tyki opened an imported Riesling mostly for the sake of making himself forget the flavor of the bread. It hadn't occurred to him when he poured it that Lavi was a bit young to be having alcohol with his meal – instead he marveled at how the Exorcist remembered where his glass was, how the redhead managed to use his fork without bringing it back to his mouth empty more than twice. It was strange, especially with something as unwieldy as lettuce on the end of the utensil.

In the soft lamp light, and a genuine smile on his features, the redhead truly looked happy to be with him, happy to eat and drink and make conversation about the state of the world, being he did not remember much about it until reminded. The minutes melted into an hour while he learned that they were in Northern Ireland, and he spoke in a strange, dreamy tone about what he knew of the country, the people, and their faith. All the while the Noah watched him, brow furrowed.

And Tyki ate and drank and talked with him. Until the wine was gone.

Four glasses of wine was a bit much for him, but five glasses of wine was about four too many for Lavi.

And the Noah didn't notice until it was too late.

The boy, a lazy sort of smile on his face, rested his chin in his hands, flushed cheeks contrasting with the paleness of his long, thin fingers. The swath of gauze around his eyes – there to keep him from scratching at the healing flesh – matched the unbuttoned white shirt collar tucked beneath his chin, adding a strange sort of balance to his posture. He sighed dramatically, expression too fond to be anything but intensely endearing.

Tyki felt himself grin a little.

"Tyki," the name was a strange sort of purr on the redhead's lips. "I am _horribly _drunk," Lavi went on, and lifted his left hand to point at the older man, wagging a finger at him earnestly. "If you wann'ed t'take advanted of me, all ya hadda do was ask."

The Noah chuckled, but could not stand to take the offer seriously with the younger man's right hand fluttering drunkenly toward his side of the table. Instead he leaned back, enjoying the slightly dizzy, warm feeling that suffused him, and reached out to take that hand, because the Exorcist would likely knock something over otherwise. It did not occur to him that he was holding Lavi's fingers in his, nor did it cross his mind that the boy was laughing at the fact. He thought only of how deplorably high the young man's blood alcohol level would have to be to make him giggle at it. And he did giggle – at the thought of himself and Lavi giggling.

"I don't think I'm in any condition to be taking advantage of anyone. Including myself." Tyki said surely, and pushed himself back from the table, Lavi's hand still in his. There were leftovers, sparse and leafy in the brown wooden bowl at the center of the table, but they could wait until his liver did a bit of work. Or morning. Whichever came first. "We should both eat something heavy, drink water, and sleep." He went on before rising to his feet and teetering dangerous toward the back of his chair and sitting down again, dizzy. "In a few minutes." He corrected himself.

The redhead made a little sound of amusement, his thumb sliding across the back of Tyki's hand. His expressions were a bit easier to read, now that the Noah had seen them wide-eyed and blind, so he knew that Lavi was, for the moment, generally content with the world around him, grinning like he was. But there was something else, something in the crooked lift to his lips, that made Tyki think of something different – like fire and lightning and bruises. Maybe though, that was just Lavi.

"Tell me, Tyki Mikk," Lavi mumbled, leaning on his free fist almost thoughtfully. "If ya drank too much t'take advantage of me, how about I do my best t'take advantage of _you_, hm?" His fingers tightened on the older man's hand and he pulled it forward, bringing it to the side of his smooth, playful face. "I'm a little worried that if I try too hard you might try to tear out my insides though…"

"Never." The response was automatic.

A less than innocent smile parted the young man's lips, showing his straight white teeth. If his eyes had been visible there might have been a mischievous gleam to them. "In that case… will you let me do what you wouldn't let that boy do?" The way he worded it, the way he contorted his smile, made Tyki's slightly drugged mind know exactly what the young Exorcist wanted.

The Noah found himself looking at the redhead's fingers, studying his hands. They were smaller this close than they seemed wrapped around the shaft of Lavi's Innocence, thin and childlike, a bit boney. Tyki brought them to his lips and closed his eyes, pressing callused knuckles to the warmth of his face. It wasn't the hand of a boy-whore, or a lover, or a family member. It was the hand of an enemy pressed to his lips, and yet it held no ill will against him. It had never crossed his mind that thought, how utterly harmless the Exorcist was without his weapon and without his memories, without even the slightest inkling of what could be done, what he _would_ inevitably have to do. His heart sank a little. This young man was not on the list of those he needed to kill, but it would have been proper to kill him anyway, satisfying or otherwise.

And yet, it was just a hand against his lips, and a curious thumb pressing a bit more surely against them.

The dark, the light – he didn't know or care which it was. All he knew was that suddenly he was standing and steady, and his mouth was pressed to Lavi's, open and inviting. He could not recall crossing the space between them, either through the table or around it, and he did not know when his grip on Lavi's hand had moved down to the thin, brittle line of the redhead's wrist. All he knew was how skinny the Exorcist was, and how accepting, how weak of mind and body alike.

It would be better this way, until he remembered.

But _why_, Tyki demanded of himself, _why_ did the boy have this power over him, to make him move and bend without knowledge of his own actions? In the end it didn't matter. It would end the same if he remembered. If he didn't, Lavi was still useless. One forgotten, blind Exorcist was as pointless as Innocence without an accommodator.

The kiss broke, but he pulled the boy into another. The arm he gripped in his hand fought his hold until it fumbled into his chest, no longer as coordinated as it was when Lavi was sober. The jerk it gave, however, lacked none of the wiry strength Tyki had come to expect in the young man. Tyki caught himself on the back of Lavi's chair to keep from teetering over drunkenly, and the boy pulled away to laugh, true amusement tinkling in the sound like bells in a warm spring breeze.

"_Da mihi multa basia."_ Lavi whispered, and tugged a bit on Tyki's shirt, as if to encourage him. _"Nemo est sine culpa. _You know?"

"Are you speaking Latin?"

"I dunno. I'm drunk."

The Noah laughed, and brushed a hand through the redhead's hair, watching it fall back in a spray of shining, clean locks. "Then tell me, what did you say, Lavi? And how did you know you spoke Latin?"

Lavi's lips started to frown a bit before they turned up at the edges, gleefully. "I told ya to kiss me a lot. I think. Dunno where I learned it. Just sorta there. _Ad libitum_."

That made Tyki smile, though why it was the case he did not know. With arms that now had to strain to hold the younger man's weight, the Noah picked the redhead from his chair, thankful for the rigid arms that held Lavi's chest to his own. They made bearing easier, and helped him not to wander his way into a wall. Instead he set his course for the living room, and the couch – for it was safer to maneuver Lavi and his broken ankle through one wide doorway than it was to wobble down an entire hallway, feeling dizzy and inebriated. He did not speak while they traveled, too focused on saving them both from falling.

Lavi sank against the cushions as if he had expected them all along, and pulled Tyki down with him, which brought the Noah's face into awkward contact with the soft blue back of the couch. There was another sofa, smaller than the one they both now occupied, two other chairs, and a low, well used wooden table, all of it arranged for conversation and enjoying the dying embers in the fire place. But now, for tonight, only the couch was important. For it had a throw pillow on which Lavi leaned his head and was comfortable enough that Tyki, once on it, found himself rather unwilling to simply leave. It might have helped a it that the redhead who served as something of a half-mattress under his weight did not want him leaving either.

In fact, the boy sighed as if his sexual endeavors were the very last thing on his mind and smiled. "I'm gonna be hung-over tomorrow, aren't I?" He lamented, and shifted enough to make them both more comfortable on their bed of choice. "Headache, vertigo, vomiting, nausea, indigestion… and all I got was a kiss."

"Well, you're sleeping with me."

"Not sex…"

"Lavi," Tyki's voice was gently chiding.

The redhead laughed. "I'm kidding. As much as I'd totally do it with you, we don't know each other well enough." His arms lifted, the left more slowly than the right, and draped around Tyki's shoulders in a reverse of how they had slept before, the Noah's weight on his chest. "I'm… happy, to just hug and sleep and have little drunken kisses for the time bein'."

"Happy?" The word was not the one Tyki might have used in Lavi's circumstance. "How can you be _happy_?"

The boy yawned hugely and his arms tightened. "I don't know," he answered honestly, and sighed a little, just enough to stir the air between them. "I guess it's because you're so… _warm_. Did I grow up in a cold place?" He turned his face into Tyki's shoulder, nuzzling it. "Because there isn't anything like bein' warm n' close to somebody. I think… that's why I'd be ok with touchin' you and trustin' you and stuff. Why I'd like to just fall asleep right here with part of your weight on me, holding me down, safe, but I dunno what from." He shook his head again until his face rested against the curve of Tyki's shoulder, his breath coming more slowly.

Tyki reached out to the back of the couch and pulled the decorative blue crocheted blanket down on top of them, the thin cloth enough between the dying fire and their body heat. He turned his face enough to watch Lavi smile and work to make them more comfortable, so that no part of either of them would fall asleep from blood loss. It was a bit ironic to Tyki, the idea of warmth. It was the same thing that Rhode said when she hugged him, that he made her want to be around him more, because he was fun and warm and—

And the boy holding him now had tried to burn her alive.

"Tyki?" The Exorcist's voice was almost meek, his fingers painfully light on Tyki's back. The alcohol, coupled with the food, and their proximity was pulling the boy toward sleep very quickly, so his words slurred more than they had before. "May I ask you somethin'?"

"Hm?" Tyki's eyes were not shut but he knew the apprentice Bookman could not tell. For that reason he shifted enough to return the embrace completely, Lavi's forehead pressed to his right shoulder.

"What you said, when I was in the bathtub… it's true, ain't it? You n' I are on opposite sides of your holy war." He stroked his hand down the back of Tyki's head, ignoring the short intake of the Noah's breath. Momentary panic suffused the older man and he remained motionless, hands fisted on Lavi's chest, eye shocked wide. "It's ok. I'm not scared." Lavi went on in a whisper. "I'm just… sorry. For whatever I did. I'm sure I was wrong."

It made the Noah shiver. It made him angry. It made him sad and guilty and horrified him. But above all, despite his best efforts, it made him lean down and place his slightly loose lips on the boy's temple, pressing them through the gauze that kept their skin apart. That way, skin to skin, he closed his eyes and breathed. "I did not know when I hurt you that this was what you were underneath," he admitted, and swallowed with difficulty, opening his eyes to the light of the dying fire. "If I had known, I wouldn't have – I don't know if I would have—"

"Tyki," Lavi's face turned up until he felt as if the boy were gazing through the fabric over his eyes, searching his soul. It stilled him and brought them closer, frightened and soothed him at once. What would the boy do, if he knew how many hearts he had crushed? "Tyki," the redhead reached up and brushed away some of Tyki's hair, carding his fingers through it, perfectly at ease. "It's ok. I don't want to fight with you. I wanna lie here with you, and never remember a thing. Because I was obviously _wrong._ If you can be this good to me, if the people I fought for would make thirteen year old boys fight a war for them, I don't want to be a part of that, I want to be here with you, as blind as a bat and smiling."

Tyki did not know, for the moment, what to say. He leaned forward enough to bury his face in the boy's chest, his own shirt, and close his eyes, block it all out, and forget. This wasn't the young man who had tried to kill his niece any more than it was the Japanese boy who tried to take off his arms in Edo. They shared the same root, the same core, but the rest – the trust, the warmth, the feeling – it was all different. "Please," he heard himself whisper, muffled and strange against Lavi's wine and mustard and flame and ozone scented chest. "Do not change your mind about this. Do not… do not remember what we were and I will not speak of it." He could stand to do this – had thought of it – even if it made things different than he had intended.

"What do you mean?"

He had to lie. "I will give up my place in this war – I will stop killing and stay with you. Though I will likely have to go back to being something of a lesser lord to keep my affairs and monies in order. You understand." It came out very easily, but it somehow hurt to lie to the Exorcist, which was wrong. Something was wrong with him, to want to lie in the first place, to feel bad about it, to have something of a conscience… He shivered softly. "God has given me to you, I can do no more."

Lavi hugged him so hard, Tyki worried for the boy's ribs would crack against his chest. "Thank you," the Exorcist could have been crying, it was hard to tell, his voice was muted against the Noah's shoulder. "Thank you so much. I… for not killing me, for letting me stay, for… for everything."

"You're welcome."

-- -- --

The dream was different this time, and dangerous.

He was standing in what looked like a town square in day time, surrounded by white buildings and blue sky, maybe France or Spain by the architecture, it was hard to tell. There was no sun, though sunlight still poured down on him from all the right angles, warming the skin on the left side of his face. He sighed, inhaling the fresh air, and turned around, hoping to find something even better behind him.

A child looked up at him, redheaded, green eyed, wearing an eye patch. It startled him a little, to see such an oddly familiar person standing before him, looking up with an expectant expression. It wasn't what he had thought would be there.

Lavi knelt, the dark fabric of his pants rubbing together at the knees as he brought himself to eye level with the poncho-clad little boy. He made himself smile.

"Hey little guy," he tried, tilting his head to the side in a friendly smile. "You lost?"

The child nodded.

"Looking for Mommy?"

The boy shook his head, no.

"Daddy?"

Another negative.

Lavi frowned. "…Grandpa?"

The child, the little redhead, smiled with unsettling glee. He reached out and touched Lavi then, on the left shoulder, where it should have hurt, and gave a little squeeze. Silently, the child moved forward and embraced him, leaving Lavi still and slightly horrified, what felt like a six year old hanging from his neck. It was terribly real for a dream, but he didn't care. Instead he wound his arms around the child and rubbed his back in that way he somehow equated with children and soothing, slow and rigid at once.

"_We thought you were gone, Lavi."_ The little redhead whispered, and his arms tightened again. _"We thought you were going to leave us to them."_

Lavi shook his head. Leave a child? He didn't know the child, but he knew he didn't want to leave him. Not here, no matter how pleasant it seemed with the soft light and the white buildings and warmth. "I'm sorry," he tried instinctively, "I just forgot. Tyki messed up my brain a little – I'm lucky I didn't have a… what's it called… bleeding in the brain thing…"

"_Epidural hematoma."_

"Yeah. That. Smart kid."

"_Thank you." _The little boy pulled away, hands fisted on Lavi's arms. His expression was terribly grave. It wasn't a look Lavi imagined a real six year old would be capable of, too knowing and adult to be anything but openly worried, the deep sort of worry that children could not understand or convey. Maybe, he thought when he studied the child a little more, it was fear. _"Can we get away from them now?"_

Lavi frowned. "Who?"

The boy pointed. _"Them."_

-- -- --

Tyki slept hard and dreamless for nearly three hours, and woke too comfortable and pleasantly inebriated to move. The air was thick with the sent of ash, however, and he knew he had to get up and start another fire; otherwise the spring chill would get in and make things uncomfortable. It would be hard though, with Lavi's arms draped around his shoulders and the boy's face buried in his throat. Not difficult because he was frightened of waking the Exorcist – he could apologize and go about his business if that were the case – but frightened there would not be room on their couch when he was finished with his task of keeping them both warm.

The little shiver that Lavi made against him made procrastinating that much less attractive of an option.

The Portuguese man went about disentangling himself from Lavi's limbs with expert care, phasing gently through the parts he could not move without touching wounds or wrinkling the blanket. Still, when his weight left the couch and he stood, Lavi made a small sound of loss in the back of his throat and shifted, throwing an arm over his eyes. It was somehow human and grounding for the Noah, that simple human reaction, and he found himself wishing he could take a picture of the young man and frame it forever.

Instead he turned to the banked fire and the woodpile and grinned lopsidedly at both, feeling friendly and languid and somewhere between normal and dark. It was a complicated place to be. His killing intent was satisfied, mayhap more than satisfied, but there was some other want within him, and it had almost nothing to do with the nipping quality to the predawn air in the living room. He stocked a log on the more than half-dead embers and waited for the dry, cracked bark to catch before he added another for Lavi's benefit. The boy was still weak, after all, even drunk and elegantly adorable, draped over the couch as he was.

Tyki watched the fire build for a while, wondering. Lavi knew, but he would be no harm for the time being, as long as his memories remained locked away in the back of his mind, crushed and forgotten. The Earl though, now that was another matter all together. He would know somewhat of Tyki's life, that was a given, the man had ears everywhere – that tended to happen when one lived to be more than a few hundred years old – but Tyki didn't know where that knowledge ended. It would be safest to call or send a letter as soon as possible, the last thing he wanted was Lavi to die by someone else's hand, bleeding out in his arms or disintegrated into a million gray particles of dust on his floor. There is an art to killing what one loves, and Tyki had no inclination to see it transgressed against under his roof.

The flames popped. Pine had that tendency when it burned.

On the couch, Lavi stirred again, just enough to make Tyki glance at him. His pale skin was gilded in the firelight, his hair bronzed over in a shade of striking red-orange, the lines of which stood out in sharp relief against the dark blue of the cushions he rested on, like blood on the cerulean cloth. The white gauze over his eyes was a brilliant sort of yellow, and the shadows on his cheeks and lips painted him different, changing expression, none of them pleasant. His arms were wound around his chest, as if it pained him.

A flurry not unlike excitement alighted in Tyki's chest.

It had been at least a few nights since the nightmares had stopped – Lavi had been willing to remain alone earlier in the day, even. But now, with his hands reaching for something, upward, no longer clenched around his frame, Lavi screamed like someone was killing him. His fingers curled at nothing, head thrown back as if he might see what he sought, mouth open, fear evident even half-masked. It lasted only as long as his breath would keep that volume and then he was panting, still reaching, anguish and terror fading into something much, much worse.

Despair. Tyki recognized that look, having seen it once before, recognized the surprise and then the darkness, and the suddenness with which the boy relinquished himself to whatever hand it was that fate had dealt him. The apprentice Bookman wasn't happy about it, but there was still an ironic tilt to his lips.

With a shiver, the Noah lurched back to the couch and scooped the Exorcist into his arms before shifting him back against couch back, making room for himself. The boy woke, but there were no tears this time, or clinging. Only needy hands buried in his shirt.

Tyki pulled the boy to his chest and tugged the blanket high enough to cover them both, his back to the heat of the fire. His shadow took away the metallic layer of light that had been thrown over the Exorcist, deadened him, but Lavi did not notice, having no way of knowing. It was better that way, Tyki thought, if the redhead remained blind he would perhaps never make the connection that the flesh beneath his fingers was the very same as what haunted his nightmares, the very same that had done so very much to his friends. It was one thing to forgive in concept without the knowledge of what had been before, but it was another to do so knowing exactly what he had lost. The Noah did not know if impartiality went as far as that.

But he did know that Lavi fit very well against him, wiry thin or otherwise. There was just something soothing about the Exorcist's arms around him and his trust evident in every slow, steady breath he took.

"Nightmare?"

"Mmhmm," Lavi nodded a little, but he seemed more than willing to go right back to sleep if Tyki was willing to let him. "Falling. I was falling." He whispered. "Someone was reaching for me, and just when I thought I was safe, I started to fall again. But it was ok. I just thought _'that's it?'_" He chuckled, low and sleepy, and pressed his face more surely against Tyki, like a cat complimenting its owner. He yawned before he went on in a softer whisper. "Whatever. I lived, memory or not."

Tyki ran a hand up Lavi's spine, subconsciously cataloging how many ridges there were. "You aren't frightened?" He inquired, face turned against Lavi's hair.

"Nope." The redhead answered at once. "Not of you."

-- -- --

When morning came, Tyki left Lavi to the couch and his hangover in the hope of finding something to cure his own pounding headache. It was impossibly strange how nothing worked. Coffee failed, a raw egg made him feel sicker, and aspirin wasn't something he could give to Lavi, so he didn't take it himself. At length, he gave up on his morning and simply curled up next to the redhead on the couch and closed his eyes to the light.

"Remind me not to drink anythin' next time we have dinner. Unless we're countin' how many glasses I have. And we're going to make the headache worth it." Lavi grumbled over his shoulder, face buried in the side of the couch. "Not sure that's possible though. Making it worth it, I mean. You'd have to be like, a sex god or some shit."

Tyki chuckled despite himself and wound an arm around Lavi's waist pulling him playfully backward. "I have a bit of skill in that regard, but let's not test it at the moment." He let out his breath in a thundering sigh, mulling over the things he needed to do with his day and wondering if any of it could be put off until his head was less painful. Calling the Earl could wait if he stayed home. That, for the time being, was the only pressing matter. Tyki could stay like this, curled at Lavi's side, all day and night if he wanted.

"You're a sex god? That's nice."

"I wouldn't go that far, but I've never had a complaint."

"Maybe the people you sleep with are scared you'll tear out an important sex organ unless they lie."

"Oh, my ego is throbbing."

"Ego? Should have named it Id."

"Lavi!" Tyki heard the chuckle in his own voice and shook his head a little, face pressed to Lavi's hair. The amusement would not die, however, not even when he found himself pulled into an enthusiastic, if slightly lopsided, kiss of semi-passionate intentions. It was just as sweet as before, just as innocent, as the first time they had kissed. There were no demands from Lavi, only the flutter of his fingers on Tyki's shirt and an encouraging hum in the very back of his throat.

When they pulled away, Tyki had to ignore the stab of guilt that stung in the very pit of his stomach. He wanted more. Pulling away was almost a lie. So instead of saying his normal words of discouragement that he usually found parting his lips, the Noah leaned down enough to nibble at the side of Lavi's throat, gentle and yet demanding. He was unsurprised at Lavi's moan of response, the way the boy arched his neck and sighed like a good companion, like someone who had done this before. The thought almost made him pause – the headache made him do that first.

Lavi was disappointed, but only enough to growl before fell limp again, sagging on the couch cushions. "Will you only ever tease me?" He asked almost sorrowfully. "We don't know each other that well, but it's obvious you're willing to take the chance. And you _know_ I am. I like you, you're nice, you feel good…" The boy was lying on his back now, which seemed to pain him still, a little, and he turned on his side again, pressing his back to Tyki's chest.

The Noah found himself hugging the boy close, face buried in the tendrils of his hair. "We both have hangovers."

"Wouldn't be thinkin' about the vertigo."

"Hush. You're incorrigible."

"Maybe I'm stubborn."

Tyki couldn't help but smile. "Yes, that you are."

The redhead's hand curled in Tyki's, bringing it up to his chest. Like that, spooning a bit, the apprentice Bookman seemed quite content to just fall silent and rest for the time being, his breath slow and even. His fingers worked in the Noah's until the back of his hand touched Tyki's palm, captured by the larger man's fingers.

"Will you stay here? If I sleep through the headache?" Lavi hardly mumbled the words, which seemed odd considering how lively he had been only a moment before. But that was the way with the Exorcist – his wounds and affinity for naps never left him awake long.

"Assuming I don't get hungry, yes." Tyki answered, and turned his face down enough to touch Lavi's ear with his lips when he spoke. "I'd hate to risk eating you, Lavi."

The boy laughed in the back of his throat. "I'd go pretty well with a little dish of olive oil."

"Go to sleep, Lavi."

"You're catching on to my innuendos, eh?"

"A deaf man wouldn't miss them."

"Good."

Tyki tightened his grip on Lavi's hand and breathed in the boy's scent in an effort to keep from feeling guilty once more. The Exorcist trusted him, that had never been a question. But he would need to at least _hint_ his current situation to the Earl before he felt anything even remotely close to better. There was still a war to fight, if there was a Lavi or not. Someone else would want to kill him, Tyki was sure, like Rhode, but he didn't want that, not if he could help it, not while Lavi didn't know or understand what he had done.

Lavi sighed and leaned into him, exposed the line of his throat. It was so tempting, too tempting, and Tyki leaned down enough to press his face to it before he could even think to stop himself. The younger man was aware enough to chuckle.

"Tol' me t'sleep…"

The Noah settled a bit, until he was comfortable, his exhaled breaths spreading hot air down Lavi's shoulder. "Sorry."

-- -- --

Lavi woke feeling groggy and warm, uncharacteristically close to Tyki and more than content to remain so. What time it was he didn't know, but his stomach gave a low rumble, alerting him to how long it had been since dinner. If he had had to guess, he would have put the time around lunch. Which meant he had slept more than half the day away already.

Not that it mattered. Tyki was still wrapped around him, and his aching limbs and back didn't hurt as much as they had before. He felt good. He felt… _happy._

"Are you up?" Tyki's voice was cracked with sleep, so soft Lavi knew the older man didn't want him to be. A little smile quirked his lips.

Lavi sighed an leaned back, turning his face enough to feel Tyki's breath his right ear. The bandage was loose on his eyes but he didn't care, they didn't hurt for once, and the angle irritated the wound in his left shoulder, but not to the point that he would stop lifting his face toward the older man. "You move your hips a little an' I might be." He slipped his right hand from Tyki's and reached behind him, searching for any part of the Portuguese man's body that might convey his thought's more clearly. He found a hip bone and squeezed it, a grin on his lips.

The older man laughed. "You really should quit."

"I know. You could cave, too."

The Noah made a low sound like a growl and shifted his weight, putting enough of it on Lavi's chest that the boy eased back until Tyki was above him, likely frowning. There were fingers, very gentle fingers, playing at the collar of his shirt, smoothing the wrinkles away and occasionally brushing his throat. It could have been the preamble to something more.

Lavi hoped it was.

The moment Tyki's weight pressed to his hips, straddling him, Lavi reached up and pulled the larger man into a kiss. Why he wanted to was a bit ambiguous to him, but the warmth was undeniable. Lavi couldn't say that he loved Tyki, though he did care for and like the man, but he could say that he wanted him, wanted to be that close to someone – this someone, this man who had hurt him and saved him and so many other things. There was fear in his gut. What would happen if he remembered what had happened and wanted to take back the things he had done, the things he had said? What if he wanted to leave? There were so many risks, yet he wanted to ignore them. They weren't important when compared to the feel of Tyki's teeth on the inside of his lower lip and Tyki's right hand trailing up the side of his shirt.

That had never happened before, not while Tyki wasn't drunk off bloodlust. A small victory on Lavi's part then.

The redhead let his hands wander for a time, smoothing over muscle and sinew with casual indifference. It was not until his shaking right hand attempted to shove passed the waist of Tyki's pants that he found his wrist caught and pinned beside his head, a word of denial in Tyki's throat.

"Not yet."

"But I want to." It seemed so very simple a reason, even if he couldn't understand it himself.

Tyki shook his head, sending his tangled hair dancing across the bridge of Lavi's nose. "There are so many things you don't remember…"

"Then _tell_ me, Tyki, we've been over this."

The older man leaned forward enough to kiss the boy again, hard – a physical promise if Lavi understood it right. "You'll hate me, Lavi. It doesn't matter what you've said, you'll hate me the moment you remember."

Lavi could hear what might have been regret in the older man's voice and reached for his face to push away his mussed hair. It was more wavy than curly from being held back so long. It made Lavi frown. "Did you kill someone? Someone I cared about?" He felt the expression under his fingertips grow grave and knew he was close. He had to be careful. "I told you we were wrong. I might be mad at you if I remember, I might be sad, but I won't _hate_ you. You wanna talk about it? Or something else? Because that'd be ok, too. I get that you're worried, but you're either gonna have to get over it or lemme fuck you – and not complain when I do it crooked and from behind because I'm blind and can't remember if I'm a virgin." He laughed softly at the sound of hitched breath above him. "I think…" His fingers moved down Tyki's neck to the older man's pulse, "I wanted you before and that's all I remember."

"You didn't." Under Lavi's fingertips, the heartbeat was as steady as a drumbeat. Tyki's face lowered, but the angle remained so Lavi could feel the signs of a lie if there were any, which at the moment there were not. He didn't know how he knew those signs, but he knew that he knew them. "If you did, you hid it behind gritted teeth and a fury so strong you fought me with a broken wrist without even grimacing." There might have been a mirthless, crooked smile in Tyki's voice, almost violent in nature. His heartbeat though, remained calm and steady, quicker on his inward breaths.

Lavi sighed and let his hand fall to the larger man's shoulder, fisting it in the Noah's shirt. "You know what might help?" He questioned even as the idea wandered into his mind unbidden. "Rather than talkin' about the past or just sittin' here, wantin' what I can't have," he let his fingers trail down Tyki's shirt, down the crisp, sleep-rumpled white fabric to the waist of his darkly color pants. They felt dark only because of the smooth, new quality to them. When the older man stiffened Lavi paused, trailing his fingers up again. It was a strange sort of balance to maintain, seductive and yet not enough to make the man above him angry, enough to make Tyki's breathing speed a bit in his chest. "If you have a cane or somethin' we can go out. Maybe get a real cast for me and a new shirt for you, being you must have ruined that one from yesterday."

The Portuguese man's hands were very firm on his stomach, very certain. They moved low on Lavi's hips, callused fingers on the waist of the redhead's pants. "You do need more clothes. Pants that fit, besides this pair." The words were very, very distracted. "Any chance you know how long ankles take to mend?"

"Six to ten weeks before someone should walk on it, three to six months before it's as strong as it was before the injury." Lavi blurted without thinking. He smiled to himself. "I'm just full of this stuff, aren't I?" He chimed, and knotted his fingers behind Tyki's neck, grinning.

"It's been six days since I set it," Tyki observed softly. "How does it feel?"

"Tight." Lavi nodded to himself, frowning slightly. That feeling made sense much later in the healing process, not after six days. "Do I heal quickly? Because that's not normal." No sooner had he said it than Tyki's weight was sliding away toward the side of the couch, moving to inspect the ankle in question. He didn't protest, and instead pushed himself up against the arm of the couch, hanging his right foot down toward the floor. It didn't throb as badly as before.

Tyki's fingers were suddenly not where they were supposed to be, not touching his leg or his ankle. They were on the buttons of his pants and very steady. It surprised him a little. Enough to draw a little gasp from his throat. The Noah's chuckle was decidedly friendly and ironic, the emotion behind it very strange and unreadable. There was something dangerous to it, a bit like how he had been blood-covered and hungry with lust. "I suppose you thought I was going to check it?" Tyki's voice had a grin in it; his fingers did not pause on the zipper of Lavi's pants. "No, I wanted to be sure this wouldn't break it again. I will not sleep with you, Lavi, nor will fuck you, take you, or let you touch any part of me you want to because you think it is what you might remember from before. But I will do this for you. I want to. And you…" The fabric hugged Lavi's hips as it went down, clinging like a second skin. "You must be the loneliest person on Earth to want it from me."

"Tyki…" Lavi pushed himself up and reached out until his fingers found hair. He couldn't aim, his mind too taken with reeling at the Noah's words, but he could tilt the other man's face up to him. "You don't have to do that. We can go out." He stroked at the older man's cheeks, trying to gauge his expression, and frowned when he found it smooth and serious, perfectly sane. "I mean, it'd be great if you insisted, but it'd be just as happy going to a park or somethin'."

"You'll bug me until I do it."

"I'll bug you until you do it, then bug you some more until you do it again. Then I'll bug you until you let me do it to you."

"There's no winning then."

The redhead smiled crookedly. "Not really." He pulled the Noah higher, bringing him back to couch cushions and ignoring his open pants. It didn't matter, for some reason. Tyki mattered. "And how can I be lonely? You're here, aren't you?" The older man tried to draw away, but Lavi held firm, and scooted closer. "Stop doing that, I'm serious. Every time I say something about liking you or having you around or feeling happy with you, you always draw away like I've burned you or something." Lavi felt it happen again and let go in order to prove his point. He was unsurprised when the Portuguese man stopped himself and paused, uncertain.

"I don't understand you."

"That's because you aren't listening."

Tyki could have stood and walked away, could have demanded an explanation, instead he sighed and let himself sag against the couch, releasing a loud sigh. "It's harder than you seem to think it is, Lavi, forgetting everything that's happened when you might remember and take your forgiveness back. I understand that you are attached to me, but is that because of who I am? Or is it because I am a warm body in a cold, dark world? I don't know. I don't know if you know." His hand, despite his words, cupped the left side of Lavi's face and turned it close to him, cutting off Lavi's protest. "Do you know?"

The Exorcist was quiet for a moment, thinking, before he leaned forward enough to splay himself against Tyki's chest, the lopsided bandage on his eyes shifted lower, but he didn't care. Without asking he buried his right hand in the older man's shirt and pressed his face upward, the bridge of his nose on the ridge of Tyki's jaw. "I know that if you're the light in all of this and I have some kind of reverse Florence Nightingale syndrome, I'm glad it's _you_." Lavi settled himself a little lower, laying his head on the larger man's shoulder, and smiled when a pair of strong arms entwined him. That was what he wanted. "I'll always be glad it's you," he curled his hands in Tyki's disheveled hair in an effort to remain where he was even if Tyki tried to cast him off.

The redhead's stomach rumbled.

"I suppose that puts an end to our conversation."

"Unless you want me to eat you_…_"

With a chortle and one final squeeze of the redhead, Tyki released Lavi completely, another, genuine smile filling his voice. "No, no," he was almost chiding, "I think we'll save anything of that nature for a very long removed dessert."

-- -- --

**Like? TBC…**

**For those of you who follow tws, it's only got a bit left, but it's slow. So… this is a peace offering? ILU?**


	5. Hopes and Reservations

**Alas, here is the update. TWS is being beta'd at the moment, so here is another peace offering. And such. ^^**

**Firefox was a $%^& and crashed and I lost a number of reviews do to its lameness. Please don't let the lack of an answer on my part discourage you from writing me again, I'll try to answer faster in case it happens again. :D**

**Disclaimer: I continue not to own D. Gray-man. If I did… Tsunaida te ni Kiss wo would have been sung by a guy. Who doesn't crack.**

**WARNINGS: MEN TOUCHING EACH OTHER SEXUALLY. Personal jokes about Tyki's older brother. Lavi's antics. Etc. Etc.**

**--**

Chapter Five: Hopes and Reservations

"Um… do you have garlic and lemon juice?"

"If this is garlic, yes."

"Lemme smell," Lavi reached out from his place at the table, and Tyki placed the lump of white root in his palm, the papery outside of which crinkled in the boy's hand. It was rather ridiculous, this affair, but there was no way for him to get around it, not after a number of less than savory dinners, lunches, and breakfasts. Lavi didn't seem to know if he knew how to cook, but he was willing to do what he could, even if that was only spice matching. He seemed to have a better idea of what went together than Tyki did – the potatoes smelled delicious. "Yes, that's garlic. How can you _not_ know what garlic smells like?"

The Noah smiled at the Exorcist and retrieved the proffered seasoning from his extended palm, shaking his head. "I specialize in taking things _out _of people. Not what goes in."

The words mollified the redhead – he had gone on too many rants about flavor and nutrition to go on another one – and he slumped against the back of his chair with a pointedly lax turn to his lips. His shirt was unbuttoned to the point that it showed his collar bones, his sleeved rolled to his elbows, but it was the way he leaned on one arm, his right leg stretched out casually beside him that made him look like a lounging cat in the kitchen. His pants were much too large, belonging to Tyki, but he wore them so the loose fabric gathered around his ankles, almost as if he knew the bruises that the fabric covered.

Lavi unleashed a loud, almost comical sigh. "For the sake of your innocence," the redhead mumbled, "I'll pretend I can't make a sexual joke off of that, and tell you to take the skin off of three cloves."

Tyki laughed good naturedly at that, glad to have the reference to a sexual reference than the actual reference itself. "This whole thing is a clove?"

"No!" Lavi's lazy expression turned frightened. "One of the little parts is a clove. If you stuck three heads of garlic in your chicken… we'd sweat garlic, piss garlic, breathe garlic—"

"Alright, I got it at _no._" Tyki ripped three small _cloves_ from the _head_ of garlic and began to peel them, frowning all the while.

From there it was an adventure in chopping and seasoning and marinating, none of which Tyki would have done well without Lavi's guidance. He didn't like guidance, not really, but by the time he was finished, the meal looked and smelled pleasant enough that he didn't particularly mind that he had made it while taking orders from a blind, forgetful Exorcist. He only cared that the chicken was moist and tart, and the rosemary flavored potatoes were cooked just enough to be soft, and the corn oddly sweet and yet salty, balancing the chicken and the potatoes in place of wine. It was an early dinner, but a large one, and he was not surprised that Lavi looked the part of an overfed tomcat when he was finished, lazing against the tabletop.

Another bath would be in order tomorrow, but Tyki didn't think it mattered at the moment. Instead he half supported the crippled boy into the room that they had nearly come to share and let him settle against the maroon duvet, at once curled on his left side, too comfortable and full to do aught else. There was no use of the pillow or war with the blankets, just Lavi's form slowly relaxing against the bed, a crooked little smile on his lips.

"All I ever do is sleep." He complained into the blanket, and drew the feather filled fabric against the side of his face.

Tyki smiled and touched the boy's hair, which was much softer and cleaner than he had thought it should be, before smoothing his palm down Lavi's cheek. "You should brush your teeth and then do just that. In the end, you'll be stronger for it." That, at least, wasn't a lie. The more rest Lavi got, and the less traveling, the better off his ankle would be. Not that Tyki should have cared.

"Stay?" The request wasn't entirely unsurprising, all things considered, but Tyki found himself taken aback by it nonetheless.

The bed sank a bit under his weight and Lavi moved at once to touch him, which the Noah did not mind at all. It was good to have those thin, boney fingers twined in his, and lovely to feel how the redhead shuddered at the simplest touch of lips on his cheeks. It was delicate and slow, soft and unreasonable, but Lavi could draw him into a kiss with little more than a needy tilt of his head or a well emphasized gasp. And it was getting worse. With every passing day the redhead grew more desperate for something, and Tyki felt himself responding to that silent (or verbal) call, each time a little more willingly than before. The Noah didn't know what would happen if he gave in, or what would happen if he didn't, but his mind was slowly, day by day, being made up for him.

This time Lavi moaned at him – _whimpered_ at little more than the press of lips to his cheek. An answering shiver rippled down Tyki's spine and he did it again, closer to the boy's mouth.

"_Please…"_ Lavi caught the back of Tyki's neck in his palm and leaned in close enough to plant a soft kiss on the Noah's lips. "Will you…" He didn't finish, instead his left hand touched Tyki's chest, just over his heart, and pressed gently.

The Noah shook off his uncertainty and pressed down his guilt, fought away the feeling that this – no matter how he looked at it – was wrong, and just kissed the Exorcist. The sensation of lips on his and a curious tongue pressing passed his teeth was enough to make it easier. The redhead was good at kissing at least, perhaps he retained the muscle memory, and the soft caresses lead Tyki on, guided him down to the boy's neck and, over time, his exposed collar bones. The skin there was pleasantly thin against Tyki's teeth, though which part of him saw fit to bite into it he didn't know. He only knew that Lavi groaned at it and clutched at his hair.

Perhaps it was a gift from Noah that Tyki could instinctively find the places on a person's body that were most sensitive, most eager. Choosing to ignore them usually made for a night of frustration for his partners – and Lavi was frustrated enough. He touched them. Tyki dragged his fingernails over the boy's stomach and smiled at Lavi's unrestrained shiver, the obliging arch of his back. Tyki moved his mouth as low as Lavi's shirt would allow and then up again, delighted in the taste of the younger man's skin, the faded flavor of wood smoke and garlic on his tongue.

"_Tyki,"_ Lavi tugged at the collar of the larger man's shirt. His face, or at least what Tyki could make of it, was gaining color with every touch. "If you're teasin' me, I'll find a way to get back at you."

The Noah brushed the redhead's fingers aside before he arranged himself more comfortably on the mattress, a knee between the Exorcists's, right hand holding him over the smaller man's body. He grinned. "I don't think you will, actually. I am quite literally untouchable."

The redhead scowled fiercely and jabbed a well placed knuckle into Tyki's ribcage. "I won't help you cook." His lips turned up in a smile that might have been coy and he lifted his right hand, touching the bandage on his face. He tugged it loose and then off, but his eyes, now pink and red in the whites but otherwise healthy looking, remained closed, fluttered tightly shut.

Tyki didn't reprimand him for it. Instead he felt himself smiling softly when those eyes came open again and turned blindly toward his face. "I've lived with my cooking for about half of my life, Lavi. What makes you think garlic and lemon juice is worth a little teasing?"

"Hmm…" Lavi's eyebrow furrowed and his head cocked to the side, but it was his hands that lit a little spark of desire in Tyki's stomach. They fluttered down to either side of his face, half fisted, as if the boy were suddenly shy. Lavi bit his lip. "I could always…" His eyes flicked but didn't focus on anything, but the illusion was there, green and red and glittering in the dim light. "I could always…" He began to blink repeatedly, turning his head from side to side.

"Lavi?"

The boy smiled so wide, it was a miracle his face didn't crack. "Light," he hardly whispered, the absolute joy on his features so radiant, Tyki almost felt guilty for wanting to have a part in it. "I can see light. I can… there's… Tyki!" The Exorcist threw his arms around the larger man's neck and dragged him into a deep, almost toothy kiss, grinning too widely into it. Lavi couldn't hold it long, too excited, and pulled away abruptly, still keeping the older man close. "I can see light!"

"We should look at your—"

"Celebrate with me!" Lavi cut him off with another hurried, wet kiss. "You and me, naked in celebration!"

"Lavi…"

"Well, I'm gonna do it, up to you if you join me."

The Noah knew it would be right to be an adult and logical and tell the boy no, they needed to look at his eyes and test them first, but what did it really matter? With a sly smile on his lips and his left hand on the smooth skin of Lavi's chest, he pushed the redhead back against the maroon bedding and nuzzled into his throat with a soft sigh. They could do this, part of this, and it was better now than if Lavi remembered with the return of even partial sight. It was a chance. "Alright, alright…" Tyki breathed in a gradual breath and held it, all too aware of the hands wrapped around his shoulders. "But we need to be clear about some things—"

"You can have whatever you like; I don't remember tryin' t'save myself. Heh."

"Horrible joke." Tyki grunted, and pulled back enough to see that Lavi seemed capable of locating his silhouette when he moved. "You wanted this, so if a time comes when you regret it, you can't blame me. Also, I want you to ask before you touch me – just this once. Even if you are exceedingly good at knowing where parts of me are, I do not want to be surprised and accidentally hurt you." Tyki pushed Lavi's shirt still higher, grazing his fingertips over the hollow of the boy's chest, which was deeper than it looked. They both shivered. "You aren't that strong yet," he added in a softer whisper.

Lavi nodded, his arms still twined around Tyki's shoulders. "Then we're not having violent sex are we? Not until I'm stronger?"

Tyki hummed while he thought about it, bobbing his head to the right. "We'll see. But no, not this time."

"Oh well." Lavi lamented with a shrug.

"Indeed." Tyki agreed with a nod. He moved down again, until he could press his lips to Lavi's and slip his left hand between them, down the smaller man's chest, across his hips, and against his upper right thigh. It surprised him a little how Lavi responded at once, pulling him closer, deepening their kiss, their contact, until Tyki let his fingers slip through the Exorcist's pant leg without even thinking about it. The touch, and the ensuing shiver that went through both of them, broke the kiss and brought Lavi's right hand to the Noah's chest, fingers splayed as if to feel that much more.

Without too much thought, Tyki obliged.

The redhead tugged at the material of Tyki's shirt, for once ignoring his senses and blindly groping for the buttons. He hissed when one eluded him. "Let me feel—"

Tyki nodded despite the fact that Lavi couldn't see and helped him one handed, a bit taken aback by the desperate quality to the Exorcist's movements. "Because you can't see?" He asked stupidly, as the redhead's hands went sliding up and down his skin, memorizing it, it seemed, by the care the apprentice Bookman took.

"Because I want you." Lavi's voice had a lilt to it, as if he thought Tyki was ridiculous for not realizing it. His hands spread against the Noah's flesh and curved up over his shoulders under the fabric of Tyki's shirt, then smoothed down his back. The redhead's expression changed to one of utmost amusement. "I must look like a skinny toothpick to you, huh? You're broader than me."

"And about seven years older. You aren't that skinny, just a bit under nourished." Tyki observed honestly, and moved to divest the Exorcist of his shirt, mostly for the sake of seeing his wounds, but out of his own desire as well. It was strange to him, how much he was fine with this, how much of it was perfectly logical to him. It would have been more so if he had killed recently, but the thought of it was cut off at Lavi's right hand slipping stealthily down the front of his pants, knowing exactly what it was doing.

The redhead smiled and the Noah had to wonder if he had gasped or moaned at it, too distracted by the internal workings of his own mind. "Sorry, did you not want me to touch this?" Lavi cocked an eyebrow and fisted his left hand in Tyki's shirt, dragging his face closer. "Or am I a blushing virgin and don't know it?" He curled his fingers gently around the Noah's length and gave a slow, tender stroke, grinning. It was a decidedly mischievous expression that came over the Exorcist's face, with a hint of something more, like tenderness and hope wrapped up into one strange mask that hid his fear. He was breathing heavily already.

Tyki shook himself and kissed the boy beneath him. It didn't matter if he wanted to please Lavi, or that this wasn't the point in a relationship in which he usually let someone else touch him there. It mattered that Lavi was smiling and almost shirtless, the pale skin of his chest almost papery in the insufficient light, weak like no Exorcist had the right to be. It made him think human thoughts and want human things, seeing how human Lavi was in the shadows. "You won't be able to reach for long." Tyki breathed against Lavi's lips and sank sideways down his throat in a line of half-gentle kisses, each one harder than the last.

Lavi leaned his head back to expose the full length of his throat. "Why not?"

The Noah nibbled at Lavi's right collar bone, ignoring the question and the hand on his manhood. He left a line of open mouthed kisses in his wake on his way down, until he pressed his left hand to the clothed crotch of the redhead's pants, and cupped his palm around the heat there. The fingers on his own length fell away, unable to reach without straining, and he moved closer to the edge of the bed. He stopped to lick the skin over Lavi's belt.

"Oh." Lavi whispered belatedly. "Ok, then."

Tyki smiled against the boy's navel and stroked with his hand down and up again, then down once more, feeling Lavi shiver. "If I hurt you somehow, do tell me."

Lavi chuckled, buried his right hand in Tyki's hair. "What if I like it?" He said the words so off-handedly, so happily, that Tyki found himself unable to worry at them. The redhead was so sure that what would happen would be good, that there could be no ill no matter how little he enjoyed it.

The thought almost made Tyki pause. Instead he pressed his open mouth to the pleasant bulge in Lavi's borrowed pants and breathed, his fingers pressed to the boy's hips. It didn't surprise him when the bones under his hands lifted in encouragement, but the sound of disappointment Lavi made did, quiet and airy. The fabric of the Exorcist's clothing was a hindrance. With fingers that were surprisingly steady, he pulled the button open on the redhead's pants and then unzipped them, never letting his mouth leave the place it had come to rest at the base of Lavi's arousal. He had to pull away to let it free of the material, but he did not take the time to study that given part – he covered it with his right palm and stroked while his eyes focused on Lavi's face.

His name came to his ears like a desperately whispered prayer. It made him want nothing more than to hear it again, louder, like a plea. Just the thought of Lavi begging – Tyki shivered, breath heavy in his throat.

"Tyki—"

He cut the boy off with a slow, breathy kiss on the top of his erection, which made the muscle twitch expectantly against his lips. Tyki smiled and leaned his head into Lavi's fist the same as he opened his mouth and sank downward, taking as much of the throbbing length into his mouth as he was able. He was slightly surprised when the Exorcist didn't roll his hips and instead cursed softly, fingers pulling painfully at the Noah's hair. Lavi had a measure of self control it seemed. Tyki wanted at once to break it.

With a breath through his nose, Tyki slid his mouth upward, sucking softly, and paused to paint hard, quick lines across the head with his tongue. He moved down again, concentrating on timing how long it took him to reach the base and start up, on doing a slightly different pattern with every pass. He did not increase rhythm, nor did he pause for more than a quick breath on occasion, and Lavi's length strained under his touch, hot and hard against his tongue. The younger man made a series of short, high sounds that ended in a low moan, but his hips stayed on the mattress, held in place by a will that Tyki had to be astounded at.

"Fuck you're good at that," Lavi growled; right hand jerking Tyki to continue. His eyes, though focused on nothing in particular, were directed in the older man's direction, the left contracted a bit to the light. "It'd be better if you weren't teasin' me though…"

The Noah fought to suppress a chuckle as he pulled away completely, much to Lavi's obvious disappointment. "If I intended to tease you, you wouldn't be touching me. Maybe we should try that sometime, hm?"

"No. We shouldn't." Lavi jerked on the Noah's hair as if to guide his mouth back again. "You should go back to doin' what you were doin' before I said anything."

Tyki smiled crookedly despite the fact that Lavi couldn't see it. "I'm not sure if we're prepared for that just yet, Lavi." He admitted, pushing himself up the bed until he could lay his mouth on the redhead's frowning lips. He imagined that he could almost taste the disappointment on them when they refused to open for his tongue, bitter and harsh and a bit salty. It made him want to laugh but instead he hummed imploringly and curled his fingers around Lavi's erection.

The redhead's lips parted and his right hand brushed up the inside of Tyki's thighs, pressing at the heat there. The Noah let him. With the layer of his pants between Lavi's hand and his skin, it was a strangely mixed sensation of warmth and roughness, fabric and intimacy. Tyki matched the touch with his own fingers, and slipped his tongue forward the same as he brushed a thumb over the top of the younger man's arousal.

Lavi let out a low, needy groan and tilted his head to the side, breaking the kiss. "Can I—"

"Yes," Tyki answered at once. The hand that fumbled into his pants moved like it knew what it was doing, turning and squeezing with a rhythm that made the Noah echo Lavi's sigh. He doubted now that the boy was the virgin he had seemed to be, and doubly doubted that the apprentice Bookman had ever been half as interested in woman as he had pretended to be. Whatever the case, however, the redhead remembered how to move his right hand in a very pleasing manner, sliding his fingers low at the end of a stroke and teasing across the crest at the top.

"I still feel tired…" Lavi breathed even as he rocked his hips in encouragement. His left hand moved to hide itself in Tyki's tangled hair and he smiled, his fingers buried to the third knuckle. "Even doing… this… I still feel tired."

The Portuguese man didn't know how to properly answer that complaint, so he leaned down and pulled the redhead's right earring into his mouth just far enough to tug at the lobe it was connected to. The shiver that took the body beneath him was echoed in his own spine, fast and too hot to be painful. A startled sound eased through his lips, low and breathy, hitching somewhere along the way.

Lavi let out a laugh that might have been drunk, his teeth flashing in a smile. "Shit," his fingers moved with expert care, his sightless eyes twinkled as he tilted his head and they caught the light. "Stop touchin' my ear, I can't think about where I'd like this with you—_Tyki!_" Even as he protested he rolled his head to the side, the better to expose the ear he verbally sought to defend. He arched a bit, lifting his chest into the older man's, bending his left leg against the bed to help him in the effort. He pulled down with the hand he still had in the Noah's hair. If he meant to send the mixed messages, if he meant to tighten his hand on Tyki's arousal and give it a long, pleasant stroke, the Noah above him couldn't say, but the redhead did not react adversely when both were rewarded with the press of teeth to the very flesh he had requested the avoidance of.

"Well, are you at least awake now?" Tyki whispered against the wet skin by his lips, and grinned too wide for a moment. It felt good to. It felt good to have Lavi pulling on him, pushing him, a bit like a struggle, though a different kind than he had ever imagined them sharing.

"_Yes,"_ Lavi moaned the word and pulled his hair with a lazy sort of tug. "I'm gonna find one of your ridiculously horny zones and drive _you_ nuts with it. Cheater."

Tyki laughed – he couldn't help it. The boy let go of him completely only to take him in an embrace that was far stronger and more certain than he would have given the redhead credit for. With purposeful movements and deft fingers, the Exorcist proceeded to touch and caress every line and dip and turn of Tyki he could find, laying his mouth on some, pressing against the sensitive flesh with fingers in others. It wasn't the innocent, slow, shy sort of creeping exploration he would have expected from a member of the priesthood. It was daring and irrational, without pattern or reason, and the press of teeth on his shoulder only made him pause for thought, rather than growl out his enjoyment.

"You are the strangest person I have ever met, Lavi." The Noah remarked, renewing his movements with slightly more vigor. His hand was slick on the younger man's erection, just enough that when he tightened his fingers, the redhead didn't go from reacting with want to groaning unpleasantly. "Tell me, why is it that you even want this so badly? You say you like me but… is this just… sex? Or are you hoping to seduce me?"

"I have seduced you." Lavi grinned a little and trailed his left hand down the center of Tyki's chest. He brought it to the fabric of Tyki's pants again before he returned to his fingers to their work, stroking with more speed now. His breath was short, but it wasn't obvious in his way of moving any more than it was in his well timed words. "I guess it's a way out, for one… I mean… who am I gonna think about doin' it with if not you? And you said I'm that age right?" He pushed his hips in a snapping rhythm, meeting every rough press of the older man's hand against him. "And even if this is just mutual masturbation…" He fought to swallow, "I'm ok with that. I like you. Never said I loved ya."

Tyki nodded, then remembered the boy couldn't see and made an affirmative sound. Friends. He had those, he understood what sort of connection that entitled, and he could see the two of them like that for the moment. It was true that he hadn't bedded any of the others, but it worked in his head differently when the one he was thinking about was Lavi.

He decided to give up thinking about that however, and focus on making the redhead forget how to speak.

The redhead made a strangled sort of questioning sound and tightened his fingers. He seemed to like the added twisting motion of Tyki's hand, but that hadn't been what he responded to. He tilted his head to the side, breathing deeply.

"Why do you have so many scars?"

It was the last question Tyki would have expected from a blind man, and it was about the last thing on his mind. The words struck him like a blow, stilled his hand, and willed him to draw away, to do up his shirt and walk out of the room – the house – as fast as he could. His breathing stopped. He turned his golden eyes down at Lavi's face, at the pure sympathy there, and was nearly overcome by the urge to crush the Exorcist's heart in his hand, to watch him bleed, feel him break and tremble. But he couldn't do that – wouldn't do that – couldn't—

Tyki threw himself backward, fumbling with his pants as he went. He thought at once of how he had received those scars, how they weren't really his, and struggled to respond with a semblance of sanity. He didn't want to scream. He didn't want to be angry at this person who wore the face of an enemy. "I… just – stay. I—"

"Tyki?" Lavi reached out for him as if he couldn't tell where the Noah had gone, as if whatever had made him daring and curious had slipped out of his grasp with Tyki. "I didn't mean…"

The Noah's back thumped into the door and he immediately thought to phase through it, yet didn't. In front of him, the Exorcist struggled with his too-large pants until he was a semblance of decency, growling to himself all the while, and sat up. The redhead leaned heavily on his right arm. He was tired.

"It's ok…" Lavi's voice broke in his throat, but he didn't try to hide it. "I don't care that you have them. I just want to know why." He fiddled with the blankets in his right hand so that the fabric swished between his fingers. Tyki could hear it when he swallowed. "It wasn't… it wasn't _me_ was it?"

The truth. Tyki realized that nothing short of the truth would work this time, no lies or manipulations of what he knew. It didn't bring back the mood and it didn't make him want to revive it, it made him shift against the door until he sank down to the floor, his shirt hanging from his frame. If it was a phantom ache in his chest or something else, he couldn't say. He drew his arms around his ribcage and shuddered, unwilling to remember or speak. Yet he knew, even as he fought it, he would have to tell the Exorcist exactly what he wanted to know, cast the warmth of the moment aside for that stupid boy.

He didn't want to.

"It wasn't you." The Noah hardly breathed. He watched relief spread across Lavi's features and closed his eyes, not wanting to see. "But one of your… I'm sorry. I should just tell you…" He shook his head and chuckled mirthlessly. "It's just that you asked so easily, and the story isn't a pleasant one, Lavi. When the old wounds don't bother me, I try not to think about them." With hands that still shook from abandoned passion, Tyki set about buttoning his shirt before he stood again, and frowned at the younger man. There were hollows under Lavi's eyes and his right hand twitched in the effort to hold him up. It was good they had stopped.

"I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize."

This time, when the redhead reached out, Tyki moved to take his hand and settle onto the bed beside him. "Yes, I do." Lavi mumbled. "It wasn't me, but it could have been. I'm sorry. You don't have to tell me." His right hand came off of the mattress and moved to Tyki's closed shirt, tracing the scars beneath, lingering over the places where they remained most painful. It was disconcerting that the boy could find so much with just his fingertips, but the Portuguese man didn't stop him at once, too soothed by the quality of his voice. "I can't see you, but I think you're beautiful, for lack of a better, masculine, serious word. Some scars won't change that. You're still Tyki."

It was too ironic for Tyki to tell him otherwise. Instead, he pulled the Exorcist against him and, in a sudden, childish moment, leaned himself sideways against the bedspread. The redhead laughed at him softly, but didn't let the moment take away from the honesty, not even when he came up with his fingers still buried in Tyki's shirt.

"I'll tell you the story, if you want me to. But only if you promise to rest directly afterward."

"How can I rest when you just… ruined the mood and left me hanging?"

"By closing your eyes and breathing deeply," Tyki responded without thought. It wasn't that simple, nothing was that simple, but he could pretended with the boy's red hair spread out across the maroon bedding and his pale fingers picking at the buttons of the Noah's shirt. When Lavi didn't respond, Tyki allowed him to reopen the shirt that covered the two very large marks on his skin and touch them with curious fingertips. This time he knew the little sting of pain was real, but he did not hiss like he wanted. Instead, he watched the blind boy's fingers slide down the whitish mark on the left side of his chest and shivered at a matching set tickling up his back.

Lavi's eyes closed. "It went through you? Stabbed? Like…" His left hand, the one in front, moved along the horizontal scar as if he could read what had happened there. "Like a really big blade. But… you should be dead, if that's true. And the edges… even though you act like they don't usually effect you, the edges have that new feeling, like they're still healing, even though they're old. Tyki," his hands both drew away only to pull the larger man into an embrace, the apprentice Bookman's face to the skin of the Noah's right shoulder, "I'm sorry. You don't have to tell me, but… will you be ok?"

Even if it wasn't true, with the Exorcist's voice so very soft and worried, Tyki would have lied for his sake. "Yes, Lavi." He pushed a hand through the boy's hair and sighed, he was growing far too used to having it there to touch when he wanted. "I already am."

-- -- --

Lavi dozed for a bit, glad that Tyki dozed with him. He understood a little better now what had happened before he had forgotten everything, but he did not allow the things he had learned to haunt him. They were done fighting. They were done playing at war. Maybe it was presumptuous of him to think that God would allow them to quit and live normal lives, but he didn't care too much about that. Until lightning rent the sky over the house and one of them died, he would pretend that God was just fine with everything he wanted.

When the knock came at the front door, he didn't think anything of it. Tyki went as stiff as a board, kissed him, and told him to wait quietly, which wasn't something the redhead was going to argue at the moment. Instead, he tangled himself in the topmost blanket – maroon – and let his eyes fall shut, not that he could see much with them anyway. Distantly he could hear voices he didn't recognize, though they sounded familiar, a man and a girl, another man and Tyki. He made out laughter and something like a disapproving tone before footsteps came his way, bringing two voices with them.

"Blind you say? Completely blind?"

"I did have my fingers more or less tangled in his optic nerves, Sheryl."

"But amnesia, too? Are you sure he's not faking one of them?" The man's voice was just outside the door, so Lavi rolled toward it, frowning. Though the stranger sounded a lot like Tyki, it wasn't him. Maybe a relative.

Tyki made a light scoffing sound and the door opened, which Lavi didn't condone worth sitting up at. He hadn't slept much, after all. "No, I don't. Lavi," the Noah's voice was different than it was when talking to the other man, like a caress, like something warm. "There are people who would like to meet you, if you're awake enough. My brother, his daughter, and our mutual benefactor." The warm quality didn't leave Tyki's voice regardless of how very unsure he sounded. Like there was more to it than he let on. There was a bit of light from the doorway, and what might have been two darker shapes of people, but he couldn't tell. It was all too muddled.

Lavi shrugged into the mattress. "Is Shirley your brother then?"

"Sheryl is, yes."

The redhead blinked his blind eyes in the direction of where he usually found Tyki's face and waved a little. "Nice to meet you, Shirley."

Tyki made a sound that might have been of amusement and the footsteps came closer, close enough that he turned his face in the direction he thought might have been the newcomers. When a hand touched his hair he could smell Tyki's cigarettes on it, as well as the slightest hint of garlic. He reached up and touched it with his fingers so he could drag it back to his chest. It was strange to be on display like he was, in front of a man who didn't believe him. He didn't know if Tyki's brother had a place in the war, but he didn't want to think about what might happen if he did.

"Are you tired, Lavi?" Tyki's voice was just where he thought it would be, but the shifting of the other man's feet struck him as odd.

He nodded a little. "I can meet everyone, but I don't think I'll be much for conversation. Will you…" He bit his lower lip and frowned. "I mean, it's rude but… will you stay with me? Until I'm used to them?"

There was the kind of silence that usually went with an exchanged glance that was broken by the sound of hard soled shoes on the floor. Someone else was coming. Before they came in, however, Tyki eased himself down on the bed and gathered Lavi into his arms, looping an arm low on the boy's waist. It gave Lavi sense of false security – the Noah wanted to defend him from the person who wasn't here yet, but his arm offered little to no defense. The redhead didn't care. The gesture made him want to smile.

"I won't leave you with anyone, Lavi. I promise."

The redhead closed his eyes and leaned his head into the Noah as the door opened. He was tired, and a bit frightened, a little worried that the man holding him hadn't explained everything well enough to the people that now occupied his house. Lavi gave up worrying, however, at the press of soothing lips to his forehead – a tiny anchor with which to secure his surety. The hard soled shoes stopped in front of him and he dragged his eyes open, not that it mattered. He felt Tyki stiffen but didn't follow suit, too distracted by the scent of something sweet and the sound of a curious, feminine hum in front of his face. It reminded him of something very distant, like the wounds on Tyki's chest or the strange, unpleasant pang of knowing he used to be able to see.

"Hello, Miss." He hardly whispered, trying to put on a smile. "I'm Lavi."

"Oh, I know." Her voice was younger than he expected, high and light, like something from a child's dream. He wanted to smile when he heard it, so he did, grinned until his eyes were almost shut with the expression.

He extended his right hand. "Nice to meet you, um…"

"Road Kamelot." Her fingers were very small against his palm. There was something more too it, to her demeanor, her strange way of treating him, and it gave Lavi the idea that maybe she had seen him before. For all he knew she hadn't liked him, or had fought alongside her uncle in order to defeat the redhead and his allies. He didn't particularly care.

Slowly, thinking she'd stop him, he turned her hand palm up and traced his fingers across the soft pad by her thumb, then across to her fingers, feeling their length. "Do you play the piano, Road? I think you'd be good at it." By the harsh intake of breath across the room Lavi felt he had said something wrong, but he didn't pay heed to that, either. If he said stupid things it only proved that he didn't remember.

The silence that settled between them was broken when the girl pulled her hand away and touched his wrist, leaning close to him. She might have been studying his face. "You don't remember me, do you?" There was no threat in her voice at all.

He shook his head. "I remember waking up here. And different languages." He turned his head toward the ground, wondering if her shoes fit with her voice, or if they were something more adult. Mary Janes would be fitting, with a pastel dress and candy. "I remember pain and fear and anger, falling, my heart beating like it'd come out of my chest if I didn't stop whatever I was doing. Everything else is just…" He shrugged as best he could, "I don't know. So no, I don't remember. I'm sorry."

Her fingers were like bones on the side of his face, hard and cold and thin. He didn't like them. They weren't like they had been in his palm. "Then you'll play with me?"

"Road." Tyki broke in, his arm tightened on Lavi's waist. His tone was dark and warning, like there was more to her idea of play than anything Lavi could guess at.

"I think I remember poker. I don't know." He answered honestly, and leaned away from her touch and into Tyki's. If he couldn't make them both happy he would default himself to the one he knew, the one with the warm arms and cool fingers. The one he trusted. The others, this child, they didn't seem to know what had transpired between the redhead and the Portuguese man, or at least not at the moment.

Tyki's brother made a tisking noise, loud enough to make Road pull her hand away and walk closer to her father, moving at a strange, dancing gait. That left Lavi and Tyki on the bed together and one guest somewhere else in the house, if the redhead remembered right, but it didn't concern him at the moment. It was something else that hung in the air between the family members, something thick and heavy he didn't have a part in talking about. It made him feel a little sick to think about it.

"Really…" Lavi whispered, and tangled his fingers in the maroon blanket for the moment. "If you know checkers or something…"

A girl's laughter filled the room very softly, but Tyki didn't join her.

"It's quite alright, Lavi, I don't have the pieces."

Tyki didn't try to push him away when he leaned into him and didn't try to stop him from finding a hand to twine his fingers around. That was kind of nice, when he thought about it, even if it made his dependence on the Portuguese man rather obvious. But how was he supposed to act? Bitter and angry? He didn't know. He only knew that these people played games he apparently didn't know, disliked piano music, and didn't seem inclined to have conversations that didn't involve nonverbal communication. It was making him a little irritated.

"So, what does Shirley do?" He asked loudly, turning his face in the man's direction.

"Sheryl works in government." Tyki answered in a much softer tone.

"Oh, sounds important." Lavi tilted his face up toward Tyki's and frowned a little, more out of awkwardness than anything else. He reached out to touch the place the older man's chest was supposed to be and fisted his hand in the shirt he found there. It was rumpled from their early tasks, scented a bit with things they hadn't done. "I'm sorry, I'm tired. And I don't… feel like I should keep you from you family. You can go talk, if you want. I'll be ok." The words almost didn't quake with uncertainty, almost didn't sound like half-truths.

Tyki's hand was very gentle on his face, turning it toward the other two. "Will you sleep?"

"No. I don't want to have nightmares."

The girl made another little sound at that, almost like a laugh, almost like a gasp. Maybe she wanted to know what he dreamed about.

But Lavi couldn't think about that with Tyki's mouth on his and the other man in the room making that sound like he was either going to scream or cry. Lavi couldn't think about anything but the hand in his hair and the fire in his gut, the softness to the older man's touch, the intimacy, the sureness. He wanted melt into the kiss. He wanted to hold Tyki against him and apologize for being whatever he had been, for being a liar or a murderer or a soldier – for making it hard to introduce him when he didn't have memories to recall or eyes to make new ones with. But he couldn't. Lavi could no more melt than he could speak with Tyki so close, his fingers cramping in the Noah's shirt.

Breaking left him breathless and embarrassed. He knew he was blushing but couldn't think of a way to fix it – he couldn't flirt like he normally did, not with the others watching.

"No wonder you don't want to get married." Shirley – or whatever – mumbled breathlessly from his side of the room. He chuckled a little, low and different than Tyki did, sounding like distant thunder before rain. "Though that does not explain why you've never wanted to—"

"Sheryl." Tyki bit out the name like it was meant to hurt his brother, like they had been through this argument so many times he was tired of repeating it. The Noah's fingers were very gentle on Lavi's face, smoothing over his cheeks, then up into his hair, pulling him close. It was like being claimed, only not. It was something more than that, something that the kiss hadn't conveyed, and it made the redhead nervous. "Don't." It was said in a tone that Lavi did not recognize.

There was a nearly silent creaking by the door and the hairs on the back of Lavi's neck prickled. Tyki's grip tightened on his back.

"Does Little Tyki have someone he would like to introduce me to?" There was a smile in the voice but it wasn't the kind of smile Lavi liked or wanted to hear, it was the kind of smile that made his skin crawl and his spine go rigid, like something from a nightmare. Something flickered in the back of his mind, something painful and distant, and he reached for it, reached for a name or a face or an expression, anything that would explain to him his aversion to the man behind him. Finding nothing, only that spark of familiarity, he tilted his face to Tyki again and felt the older man force a casual sigh.

"I told you," the Portuguese man whispered, "not to call me that, Earl of Millennium."

-- --

**CLIFFY OF DOOM!!!**

**Ok. Not really. But still. I'm an evil person, aren't I?**

**TBC? Reviews are love! Thanks for putting up with my slowness!**


	6. For Whom the Prey Weeps

**I'm sorry it took so long. I had to go through the process of being hired (YAY!) and I had to work my first and second day and a lot of other stuff. But, the good news is that I have this for you guys! And Bookkbaby beta'd for me out of the kindness of her heart. :3**

**Also, for those of you who read tws, I should just got it back, so once I fix all of the booboos, you shall see it. That means Monday or so. Patience is another form of love~**

**Warnings: More touching, some plot, men lovin each other, etc…**

**Disclaimer: I do not own – man. But now I might be able to afford to buy it!**

**-- -- -- **

Chapter Six: For Whom the Prey Weeps

It made Tyki's skin crawl. He knew that Sheryl wouldn't hurt Lavi, the man had a wife he cared for and a daughter he loved more than life itself. Road would though. Given a moment alone with the Exorcist she would likely make a pin cushion out of him and not feel the slightest bit of regret afterward. The Earl, Tyki didn't know. The aura of bloodlust was palpable, but if the man would act on it, no one could say. Sometimes the most obvious course of action was the one that the Thousand Year Phantom didn't take just for the sake of being surprising.

At least, Tyki noted, the redhead looked tired and weak and broken, half wrapped in the maroon duvet, his hair falling unnoticed into his line of sight. The rumpled state of his clothes and the wrapped ankle he hung off the mattress – those made the picture even more perfect, completed by the purpling teeth marks on his neck. There wouldn't be a doubt what they were about; not when the person looking knew all the sins pleasure was capable of. The only mystery that would remain was why and how, and Tyki doubted he would have those answers demanded of him while in his _captive's_ presence. Everyone, even the Earl himself, understood the loss such secrets might bring if they instilled even a sliver of askance in the boy's mind.

Yet, as the Portuguese man responded to his hated nickname and introduced Lavi to his _benefactor_, he couldn't help but think that something awful was bound to happen. He watched the Earl take the Exorcist's hand almost politely, and watched the redhead smile wanly in response. It was almost as if Lavi knew something was wrong. The apprentice Bookman had intuition that refused to stop functioning, so it wasn't that far fetched of an idea that he might understand that the older, fatter man was out for blood.

The apprentice redhead seemed thankful when the larger man let go of his hand. He turned back to Tyki and, without reserve or care or even question, pressed himself as close as they could be while there was fabric between them. His hands were white knuckled on Tyki's shirt, his sightless eyes aimed somewhere along the far wall. The way he breathed was almost frightened, fast and shallow, but there was something else to it, something like yearning, that made the Noah gather him close and stroked at the boy's spine while his family members watched and cocked their eyebrows at him. It didn't matter.

Sheryl had a wife. Tyki could have Lavi.

"Tyki," Lavi whispered against his neck, just breaking the silence. "I'm tired." It was what he had said before, only now there was a note of desperation to it, a note of fear.

"We've already had dinner," Tyki addressed his family softly, "but you're welcome to join me in the kitchen for coffee if there is something we need to discuss." At the nod from his brother, he attempted to coax Lavi from his shirt, which turned out to be more of a problem than he anticipated. The boy would not, for some reason, let go. With a soft smile and even softer hands, the Noah drew the Exorcist into a hug that would be slightly painful for both old scars and healing wounds alike. It didn't work to get the boy any farther away than he was but it did assure the redhead that he wasn't alone, no matter how much he felt that he was.

The apprentice Bookman spoke in a breath against Tyki's ear, too quiet for the others to hear. "He doesn't like me. Why doesn't he like me?"

The Noah couldn't answer for the moment. Instead, he forced Lavi's face up to him, smiling softly at the boy's blind eyes and worried features. "Because of what you were. He just doesn't know you yet."

The redhead nodded against Tyki's palm, but his expression didn't change. "Will you kiss me?" It was just loud enough to carry to everyone, just loud enough to be heard by the Earl and Road and Sheryl, not that the latter two had watched before. It made the Portuguese man smile to think Lavi cared that they knew. It made the casual way Lavi leaned forward and the white wrinkled fabric of his shirt fell away from his throat all the more obvious to Tyki. All the more alluring.

He obliged tenderly, and closed his eyes to it, tongue playing at the boy's lips with strokes that promised more, if only Lavi could wait. It surprised the Noah a little, how the Exorcist tried for a short instant to be closer, then withdrew with a soft whimper of displeasure.

"If you need me, do not hesitate to call," Tyki whispered into Lavi's lips and pecked him one more time for good measure.

Blind eyes looked up at the Portuguese man, both mismatched shades of impossible green, and Lavi nodded. "Then… tell them I'm sorry."

-- -- --

Lavi couldn't hear a great deal from the bedroom, not unless he tried. He didn't. There were names exchanged, and locations, and lists made and arguments held in nearly hushed silence. Some things he heard were familiar – Innocence, Bookman, Order, Exorcist – and others that he didn't recognize as well – Akuma, dark matter, Ark, a word that sounded like _cell_ but had something on the end. It was at the mention of that that Tyki's voice became louder than the redhead had ever heard it, and the other man's – the Earl's – rose with it. The fight lasted until something thumped and rattled and someone made a soft sound of understanding. After that, Sheryl dominated the conversation.

And mostly, he only talked about Road.

It was another hour before anyone came back into the room with Lavi, and by the sound of their bare feet and the sweet scent of tobacco, it was Tyki. The older man eased himself down on the bed beside the redhead and gently, as if he thought the boy sleeping, wound an arm around Lavi's hips. The sigh he unleashed, loud and deep and rib-cracking, made the entire bed shift a little.

Without asking what had transpired, or even if their guests were staying the night, Lavi flopped onto his side – wincing at the jarring of his right ankle – and laid his head on the older man's chest. He remembered the scars that marred the skin there, but he knew that even if he looked he wouldn't see them. He couldn't even tell where the other man's eyes were in the current light, and trying made his own hurt terribly.

So he didn't try. He closed his eyes and held on to Tyki, wanting to reassure and be reassured all at once.

The silence did not last long.

"Tyki," Lavi whispered, running his hand down the other man's chest, "will you let me sleep late tomorrow?"

The Noah shifted enough to lay a hand in the middle of the smaller man's back and stroke it before he slipped his fingers beneath the line of Lavi's pants, touching skin. It was a little dash of further intimacy, and it made his whisper all the more meaningful. "Only if you let me do the same, Lavi." There was something worn out in Tyki's voice – perhaps from raising it in an irritated and angry yell – and a sprinkle of something like exhaustion. "We will have to clean and check your eyes as soon as possible. And you mustn't rub them while you're sleeping—"

"They don't hurt." Lavi ran his hand up and down once more, eyes hooded. He knew where the scars underneath the fabric were, and listened for a change in the older man's breathing in case his touch caused pain. "And even if I'm tired, I can't sleep yet."

"Oh?"

Lavi stretched his sore left shoulder when he pulled the larger man into an embrace. "Not until I'm not scared anymore."

Tyki shifted again, this time more slowly, and the hand on Lavi's lower back moved up between his shoulder blades. The caress was quite strong. The pressure it caused might have left a bruise if it was left too long, but it went sliding downward in something of an unconscious massage.

"Do you… remember them?" The question was little more than a whisper.

"No." Lavi answered just as softly. "But they're part of our war. It's the only thing that makes sense."

"You never cease to amaze me."

"You should feel the things I think I can do with my mouth."

"Lavi…"

The redhead smiled lopsidedly into the Portuguese man's chest and curled his fingers a little, feeling the press of a rib against the tips. "I know. Just lightening the mood. You gonna be ok?" Even as the words left his lips he felt the older man's demeanor change a bit, become relaxed, and so couldn't keep the smile from his face.

"Sleep, Lavi." Tyki chuckled, and moved enough to place his face in the curve of Lavi's throat, nearly reversing their positions. His skin was cool on the flesh of the redhead's neck. "And I swear that tomorrow, if you're in the mood to, we can finish what we started earlier. Though, I have an errand to run in the afternoon and won't be home until late… can you… if I leave things here for you to eat and so forth, can you be alone for that long?"

The note of fear in the Portuguese man's voice was not lost on Lavi. There was always something more than what there seemed to be, and this was no exception.

"Are you going to kill people?"

Tyki stiffened. "Lavi—"

"It's ok." It really wasn't, but the words came easy when they were wrapped together with little more than the fabric of their clothes between them. "I can't miss them if I don't remember." Whispering it brought to mind the voices that still lingered in his thoughts when he came to the edge of sleep, the ones that he could remember calling him by his name and laughing. That was all he had now, his name and laughter. If that was all he ever remembered, and the people laughing were killed by Tyki's hands, he couldn't say that he would miss them. He couldn't say that he cared. "God, that makes me sound heartless."

Heartless. That was a word he knew from somewhere, but he didn't know it now.

Tyki's grip on the redhead's chest tightened a bit but he remained silent for a moment, breathing gently against Lavi's collar bone. When he broke the stillness, his voice carried down the apprentice Bookman's chest, seeming to vibrate in his bones. "Ironically," Tyki whispered, leaning a bit more on Lavi's ribcage, "you are anything but heartless, Lavi."

The redhead smiled and buried a hand in the older man's hair so the curls of it hooked on his fingers like silky rings. "I guess. Don't you dare get hurt, whatever you do. If you don't come back—"

"Oh, I'll come back." This time there was not even a hint of fear in the Noah's voice. "But we shouldn't talk about this, we should sleep. The day has been very…" The man paused long enough to sigh against Lavi's skin. "Eventful." The word was heavier than it should have been. His fingers tickled a bit on the redhead's side, like a hint of what might be on his mind.

Lavi swallowed hard and pulled a bit with the fingers he had anchored in Tyki's hair, dragging his head upward a bit. The light wasn't sufficient for him to make anything out; not features or hair, not clothes or skin, but he could see the change in the shadows when a hand shifted up to brush the fringe from his eyes.

"Can I help?" The redhead tilted his face to the side and lifted his eyebrows. "Can I… can I…" The hair in his fingers slipped a bit when the older man moved, but it didn't matter when warm, open lips touched his. The kiss was languid, gentle, and willed Lavi to move his free hand into the larger man's hair as well. To his slight surprise, the Portuguese man shuddered at the touch and moved closer, slipping his right knee between the Exorcist's, making Lavi tremble. It was like before, only different. Now there was a fire in it, and desperation, and a gentle knowledge that whatever happiness lay between them had the potential to last far less than forever.

It made Lavi moan.

"Would you—"

"_Yes."_ Even if he could hardly breathe the word, the redhead still produced it. He shut his useless eyes and reached for any part of the older man that he could grab, any part that he could kiss or caress or show affection toward. It was only a moment before his palms found the bare flesh of Tyki's chest, under the Noah's shirt. There was but one more before he found himself ducking down to kiss at the scars there with softly trembling lips. There were hands on his back like claws, dragging him into the very thing he aimed to touch.

Tyki's grip was painful, bruising, but that didn't stop Lavi from hooking his good leg around one of the larger man's, and bringing his pelvis into Tyki's thigh.

"_Merda,"_ Tyki's curse hardly stirred the air between them, but it was enough to make Lavi smile.

"I must be something if you're crossin' the language barrier."

The Portuguese man laughed and his hands moved a bit. His chest was suddenly bare the shirt he had worn warm and crumpled next to Lavi's face on the mattress. "Shush. I'll have you speaking Latin as recompense."

"Oh. Please, punish me with linguistic confusion, you evil li'l thing, you."

Tyki slipped downward while he laughed and the slightly awkward position they had ended up in turned into something of a strange, horizontal embrace. "Little? Evil? Interesting adjectives, Eye-patch." His tongue pressed for a very short moment against the redhead's right ear and then he was pulling back again, chuckling low in his throat. "Did I ever tell you that I called you that? I did. When I saw you the second time." His mouth returned to Lavi's neck this time and moved at the same instant that the apprentice Bookman rocked his hips. "But that isn't important…"

Lavi shook his head and moved his hips again, eyes tightly shut. It didn't matter what he had been called before, it mattered how _good_ the body against him felt, how his fingers touched the marks his comrade – he supposed – had left on his would-be lover's flesh. "No," he agreed softly, "the only thing important is how I want to make you forget whatever wore you out today. And how great you are with that tongue of yours." The redhead half-growled, lifting his pelvis again. The touch was exquisite. His blood was moving too quickly in his veins.

"Would you like me to do that, Lavi?"

"I'd rather do it to you, honestly."

There was a strange sound in the older man's throat, low and almost angry. "Your hand I am comfortable with, your mouth…"

"We can work our way up. Or down. Whatever." Lavi fisted a hand in the Portuguese man's hair and pulled him downward, kissing at the nearest thing he could reach. When he found lips he let out a soft, triumphant sound and threw his hips forward, his hand clenched a bit against Tyki's scalp. "Just let me touch you while you touch me so it's not like anyone is left hangin'." He chortled softly at his own wording and lifted his face enough to nuzzle at the larger man's throat.

Tyki shook his head a little, amused. "Any other requests? Nakedness? Shall I sit up so you can straddle me while we do this?" The rhetorical questions faded into kisses and the gentle movement of fingertips on skin under Lavi's shirt, teasing along his ribcage and over his nipples. There was enough contact between Tyki's hands and Lavi's chest to make both of them shudder at it – at the largeness of the older man's hands, the fragility of the smaller man's bones. Silence settled between them.

Lavi broke it with a groan.

"How long'er we gonna grope for?" He hardly managed to gasp the words before Tyki was rocking into him, driving a very warm, very solid something into the inside of Lavi's hip. The redhead figured that meant a short amount of time.

He was proved right when the man above him arched a bit and then pulled himself back so he could fumble with the button of Lavi's pants. The Noah's fingers trembled slightly, and his breath came in quick, deep waves, but he didn't seem panicked or angry or unsure. His teeth were half-gentle on Lavi's throat, while his right hand looped almost lazily around the boy's freed manhood and stroked it slowly. Tyki growled over any sound that Lavi produced, and pressed his mouth into the turn of the redhead's neck.

"Does this count as groping?"

Lavi choked out something that could have been a negative. "Lemme—"

Tyki caught the boy's right hand and guided it inside of his pants, completely steady. The flesh there was hot to the touch and perfectly smooth under Lavi's fingers. "There?"

The redhead tried to say yes, but the palm wrapped around his length moved in a strong, twisting stroke and he moaned, head tilted back on the mattress. It was different this time. They were desperate. His own hand moved in a similar motion, only he brushed the pad of his thumb over the slit at the top of Tyki's arousal before he moved his hand downward, increasing pressure as he went. It was almost second nature – he didn't feel awkward at all touching another man from the angle at which he was forced to caress Tyki.

Maybe he had been indifferent to gender before, he didn't know, but now he didn't care if the body above him was male or female, as long as he could feel it so close.

The Noah took the younger man's mouth in a breath-stealing kiss before he pulled back and pressed his lips to Lavi's hair, spreading gooseflesh down the back of the redhead's neck. "I'm sorry." The words moved a subtle vibration down the apprentice Bookman's face and behind his eyes – but he didn't let them open. "I sent a message to my family two days ago to inform them that you are—"

A well placed finger trailing along the vein at the front of the Portuguese man's erection brought a started half-gasp to his lips. It made Lavi smile.

"Don't talk about them," the redhead's voice was husky with sleep and need; he moved his hips in time with the hand on his length in encouragement. It felt a bit strange to him, but the leg between his thighs made up for it, the open mouth on his throat helped a little. But he wanted more. He wanted to hook his ankles around the larger man's back and touch with the sort of abandon that would leave them both worn out and speechless until midmorning, but he knew it could not happen. Not until he healed.

"But Lavi—"

"Not while we're like this. You can tell me what their God-given powers are tomorrow. Right now…" He lifted his left leg so he could hook it on Tyki's right, "I wanna finish this and lay naked with you. Because I still like you, no matter how creepy your relatives are."

The Noah made a sound that was between a laugh and a hiss of disbelief. His grip changed so his long fingers brushed the very lowest part of the muscle in his palm before gliding to the tip, then slipping down again. The difference was angle and concentration – his open mouth pressed uselessly to the skin of Lavi's temple, puffing warm air toward his ear. "I should have told you." Tyki finished softly.

Lavi couldn't help but tilt his face up toward the other man's and laugh. "I've only been telling you that since I woke up."

After that, conversation was more or less nonexistent, consisting only of short requests for more or hurried inquiries of possible other options. The redhead used his other hand to trace patterns on Tyki's chest, bisecting the scars there, following them. He didn't think the older man had been with anyone since whatever wounds had caused them, otherwise he wouldn't have been so shocked by the question of their origins, but Lavi did not let that thought stay in his mind for more than a moment; he kissed the turn of Tyki's bare shoulder and shuddered at the press of teeth to his right ear. He whispered the older man's name like a prayer and arched his back; he tightened his fingers and moaned at the shivers in Tyki's spine.

Virgin or not, in love or not, he liked it. He seriously doubted that this would be the only time he wanted to touch the older man, or the only time he thought about how good it would feel to be even closer than they were now.

Occupying the same space. He whimpered at the thought.

"Lavi, _por—"_

"Mmhmm." Lavi didn't know if the Noah meant to warn him, but the hand wrapped around his cock moved with a swiftness and pressure that he could hardly hope to match. He had to fall back on the bed a bit, the better to breathe and concentrate, while the older man jerked and thrust into his palm and he answered with quick, harsh movements of his own. There was fire in his veins and it wanted out. There was a twisted rubber band in his stomach and it wanted to snap. He heard himself plead a little, softly, and turned his face into the older man's throat. The dark world shrank into just him and Tyki, the long, cascading line of pleasure that filled him momentarily rendering him unable to hear anything but the breathy cry of his name on the older man's lips. His hand must have clenched and jerked but he wasn't all that aware of it – he was aware of teeth on his neck, bruising his skin. He was aware of fire in his veins. He was aware of the pattern of the stitching in the duvet brushing into his skin.

His right hand was wet with the Noah's release, left still clawed in the length of his hair, skin damp with sweat pressed to Lavi's jaw. The sound of breathing seemed to fill the room for the moment, permeating it with terrifying calm and painful gentleness, as well as startling intimacy. Lavi shifted only enough to feel Tyki's mouth come away from his throat and then settled again under the larger man's weight, blind right eye fluttering against Tyki's cheek.

"Thank you," Lavi heard himself mumble, but he couldn't honestly understand what he was thankful for. It made him blush.

The older man nuzzled into the redhead's neck and sighed almost deep enough to empty his chest of air. He kissed the very place he had bit, caressing it with slow, gentle touches that eventually tapered off into little more than a constant brush of contact. His breathing became even.

"No…" Tyki hardly whispered. "You shouldn't."

-- -- --

Tyki was dozing when Lavi accidentally smeared his mess across the back of his pants. The Noah didn't care enough to do anything but take them off and pull the Exorcist against him, even if the boy was mostly clothed and the blankets were tangled and he was bound to get cold. It didn't make sense to him – the ideas and emotions in his head – so he didn't think about them, didn't dwell on the fact that he would likely oversleep and wake smelling of sex, unable to shower. Finders didn't tend to notice that sort of thing, anyway, so it didn't matter. The young man curled against his bare chest mattered.

Exorcist, Noah, Bookmen. The Earl sitting at the kitchen table with that _look_ on his face. He knew that it would a mercy to pull out the boy's heart while there were no memories, while their relationship was still friendship rather than something more substantial, but he really wasn't in the mood. A cigarette would have been nice, but really, that was too much work, too. Sleep was in order. Sleep and his arms around Lavi's frame.

He couldn't recall when it was that he had begun to _want_ to hold the younger man, nor did he think it needful to remember. It made it easier to pretend that the two of them had just landed in the house together the way Lavi remembered – easier to forget what they were. It was just an urge much like breathing. Though he did want to be close to Lavi, he had no recollection of starting to.

The redhead shifted a little and Tyki matched him. Though their height difference wasn't all that grand, he still felt protective with the smaller body pressed against his chest. It was never like that with women. They tended to cloy. Lavi could cling, but it lacked the saccharine air of a woman's love affair.

And he really did want a cigarette.

Tyki's fingers wandered up into the redhead's hair and began to stroke it, moving in a slow rhythm that would undoubtedly keep the apprentice Bookman calm and make them both sleep better. The texture was almost silky, though thick, and the longer he let his hand play in it, the less he could think of it as anything but something pretty.

Lavi gave a soft, sleep-talk mumble of encouragement. It really wasn't necessary.

The truth was, no matter how Tyki looked at it, that as much as he _liked_ the Exorcist, as much as he didn't mind sharing his bed, the future was going to be a lot of work.

The kind of work he didn't particularly enjoy.

Yet, the Earl had not demanded that the apprentice Bookman die. Road wanted him to – almost got her way – but it was unfair and far too sudden and it was obvious that Lavi was no longer a threat to any of them. The request had been denied. Tyki was sure that it was in no small part due to the fact that he had yelled in the kitchen about it, slammed his hands down on the surface of the table and simply said that he would not let the redhead go for reasons of his own, ones that Road had no part in complicating. He had never done anything like that for anyone. Not even himself. He would rather laze about a family discussion, take his assignment, and leave than argue a point with anyone. It was his nature to go with whatever happened.

But he couldn't do it if it meant killing Lavi. Letting Road have him was worse than doing it himself, really. Without the memories of what he had done, the apprentice Bookman couldn't be forced to pay for his crimes or – in the end – be tortured with the sort of images his niece would want to show him. He would be confused and she would murder him out of boredom and frustration rather than vengeance.

But that was all so distant. At the moment, Tyki closed his eyes and tried not to think about how much he wanted tobacco.

The Noah decided at length that now was not the time to contemplate the future, if there ever was a time to. He took a deep breath and sighed. It was indeed a bit chilly to be lying outside of the covers naked.

Nudging the redhead beside him rewarded him with a dazed expression and, eventually, Lavi's bare back pressed to his chest, both of them under the blankets. It was very comfortable that way, very natural. He pushed the thoughts of everything else aside and just pressed his face into the redhead's hair and closed his eyes, breathing in the soft scent that was, for lack of a better term for it, Lavi. It was a bit less like fire now, closer to the smell of the house coupled with the lingering sting of what might have been fear.

"…_hm…"_ The sound was almost too quiet to break the stillness, but Tyki still heard it.

Rather than respond with a hum of his own, the Noah laid an open palm in the middle of the boy's chest and matched the rhythm he had started in Lavi's hair. Almost at once the muscles against him began to relax and unwind, trusting him explicitly.

It made him smile. It made him tired. It made him want blood.

None of it mattered anyway. Thinking about it wasn't going to help.

With that final thought on the subject, Tyki settled himself a bit and allowed his mind to idle itself to sleep.

-- -- --

The kid – the one with the eye patch – was waiting for him in a boat this time, with another boy about the age of sixteen, with the same eye patch. They were both lounging somewhat, or the younger one was while the older tried to amuse him with what looked like a finger puzzle. The younger seemed completely disinterested. It might have been a strange picture, considering how much they looked alike, but Lavi didn't let that take away from his amusement when the child turned his head away to study the water over the edge of the boat.

"_You're stupid." _The boy muttered as if he hadn't noticed another person in the boat besides the two of them.

"_Hey… that's not nice, y'know? I'm older and wiser."_

"_And you play stupid games."_

"_Was I always this bratty?"_

"_And you fail."_

The older boy pouted.

Lavi shifted a little, looking between them, and the younger looked in his direction for a moment before he smiled. The kid was damn cute with his little green poncho and insufferably affectionate expression, and the one large eye that seemed to want to drink in anything that was set in front of it. At once, Lavi stuck out a hand and ruffled the child's hair, grinning.

"Who's your friend?" He asked with a head tilt toward the older of the two redheads. Unlike the child, his double was in what appeared to be a green, long sleeved shirt that stayed mostly hidden under his larger, tan poncho, and he sported a large swath of black cloth on his forehead. He seemed almost rebellious.

"_Him? He's stupid. And really, really dumb. And totally _not_ what I wanted to be when I wanted to see the world."_ The kid answered, frowning. _"He's seen more than me, but he's lost sight of what was important to me."_

"He's you?"

"_Us."_ The older answered.

Lavi frowned. "You're the same person?" That seemed a little ridiculous.

For a moment, the boat just moved, the water lapping at the sides. The two other redheads just stared at him with matching left eyes and frowned, blinking slowly. He had said something stupid. They were spitting images of one another – of course they were the same person, someone he had known for a painfully long time. It was a memory.

"_We're you."_ The older one blurted suddenly, his face cracked with a too-wide smile. _"You can call me…er… I dunno, That One, being you took my alias. The li'l one's Connor."_

"_I'm not little."_

Lavi blinked again, frowning at them. He wanted to ask questions and feel awkward, but he didn't have time to. The older one – the one who he must have looked like, assuming this wasn't the kind of nightmare it seemed to be – stood up and touched his shoulders, grinning at him in a crooked sort of way.

"_It's ok, me,"_ he said cheerfully, _"All you have to do is remember."_

The boat was gone. The water was gone. The two people that claimed to be him were gone. He was standing on a ledge with a pole in his right hand – black – and a red door in front of him, a boy clad from head to toe in white was there also. A man who might have been Asian, short-haired, strong-nosed, and a bit pudgy, was scowling and screaming at the boy, calling him names, clenching his fists and widening his eyes so the veins on the sides of his temples stuck out visibly. The boy's face was very soft and young, sweet, and kind, but bruised and scarred on the left side, scrapped on the right. He didn't argue with the same fierceness as the other man, but he had a point of his own.

Lavi said something and took a step forward, the silver-eyed boy looked at him.

He _knew_ that face. He _knew_ it. And yet he couldn't say that he knew who it was.

Ryan? No… that wasn't it. Haldor? No, also wrong. Robin? No, that wasn't right…

Before he could think of it, everything went to Hell.

What happened first, what broke, who was hurt, he didn't know. The ground crumbled and the door shattered, the nameless boy was pulled into a hole in the floor. There was a sound like dripping. Blood. There was something dark – he hit his head – he couldn't breathe – he was frightened. Everything was too blurred and hurried for him to follow, the name on his lips too loud and desperate for him to know the shape his mouth made. The dream, the memory, had turned into a nightmare.

He knew because God did not make creatures like the one that greeted him when the word came to a lurching halt.

Skin like the endless night sky, shot through with wisps of something darker, and wings composed of dark, hinged tendrils, limbs that whipped and bent as if they lacked bones inside of them. The monster was as frightening as it was beautiful, its face covered in a mask of what might have been blackened steel fashioned into the shape of roses and a horn, its legs covered in what could have been half of a robe. He knew it, too. It shrieked and came at him. The air seemed to part around it so easily that Lavi didn't react as he would have had he known what it was – he looked down at the weapon in his hand and then back at the creature, and decided there was no way to stop it.

He shouldn't have done that. He _knew_ there was supposed to be smoke and flame and his own stupid desire to stay alive. That was what made it different from a memory.

There was a jolt in his chest and shoulder and he fell to his knees on sandstone. There was blood around his fingers, coming from his chest. He didn't feel it.

A darkly colored hand spread across the fabric of his black and silver jacket, and blood scented air moved over his ear, stiffening his spine. Something hot and wet, slick and all too familiar moved across the shell of his ear almost teasingly. A second hand pressed on his left hip.

"_If you want a bath before I leave, you have to get up Lavi."_

-- -- --

Tyki had the distinct feeling that his voice had ripped the boy from his dreams – there was no other way to explain how Lavi jerked awake, hunching in on himself as if frightened. The Noah frowned at it and pulled the redhead a little tighter, and his right hand brushed across the warm expanse of Lavi's torso. "Did I frighten you?" A hand touched the one he kept on the redhead's chest, shaking slightly, the fingers cold.

There were some bits of contact that carried with them more meaning than just a brush of reassurance or uncertainty. That touch carried all of the fear and sureness of a hand clinging to a lifeline that might be yanked away at any moment. Lavi's palm was warm despite the icy quality to his fingers, both of which pressed almost hard enough to bruise the older man's flesh, not that Tyki minded. Nightmares, he supposed, would be nearly impossible to shake off without eyes to show the room and the light, the familiar things, the truth. It would all remain, burned on the blackness on the inside of the boy's mind, unable to be forgotten or chased away.

"Lavi?"

"I don't know." Lavi's voice was a broken whisper. "I saw…"

Tyki moved his thumb in a slow, soothing line across the boy's stomach. "Yes?"

"Will you be honest with me, Tyki?" The boy didn't turn to talk to him and didn't squeeze his hand; he spoke in his nearly silent voice, very seriously. "Are there people in the world… with unnaturally dark skin and extra limbs like vines and hands that can cut you?"

The Noah swallowed. There were things that, no matter the state of ones mind or the pain in ones chest, could not be easily forgotten. He fought down the urge to react violently to the _Exorcist_ in his arms who _remembered_ something of their past and instead rolled enough to look the boy in the face. It didn't surprise him to find Lavi's eyes steadfastly shut and his face turned a bit into the white cotton fabric of the pillow case, as if the position could hide him from the older man. Tyki couldn't smile at it.

"Lavi?"

"Yes or no?"

It was one of those moments when honesty and dishonesty didn't seem to be the question – it was reveal or hide. There were too many truths. There were too many lies. This one, this story, was one that Lavi could potentially remember.

Softly, Tyki laid his lips on the Exorcist's and touched the underside of the boy's jaw, turning his face up a little. "There is one such person in the world. Did you dream of him?"

The boy touched his left shoulder around the place that Tyki might have hit him – the memory was vague at best, but it looked right. There was no mark now, but the redhead's fingers shook while he traced it.

"Tyki…" Lavi's voice was painfully unsteady. "I'm…" Like broken winged birds his hands fought their way up to the Noah's chest, trembling even as Tyki gripped them with his own. They were cold and bloodless, thin, and so terribly fragile that the Noah wanted at once to squeeze them without cause or measure, press their shape into his palms. "God, I swear I'm acting like a ten year old, but I'm…"

Scared, that was the word that wouldn't come. Frightened out of his wits.

"There's nothing to be afraid of, Lavi." Tyki said softly, and pulled the redhead a little closer. "He can be a very gentle creature when he isn't woken suddenly and painfully. Trust me, I know him very well." That was a half-lie, maybe a little less. Not that it mattered; the Exorcist would likely figure him out if his intuition continued to be as good as it had. Leaning forward, Tyki used his right hand to brush the hair from the smaller man's forehead, which sent it tumbling in a waterfall of soft red and copper, metallic strands falling on ivory skin. "In this house, you are very safe. You would be, even if he wasn't."

Lavi slumped into the larger man, half-open eyes aimed at the Noah's chest. "Are all of the things I've seen like that? Are they real? Because I don't—"

Tyki knew that he was going to say something stupid, but he couldn't stop himself anymore, not while the boy looked so very breakable. Not while Lavi was trying to get closer. "I will tell you what I know of the worst parts, if you want to hear them before you see them. It might… even if they make you remember everything… it might make it better." He touched the apprentice Bookman's hair again. "Would you like me to do that?"

"No." Lavi responded softly. "I don't want to know. Or see. Just…" He shook his head against the mattress with a growl. "I need to wake up. If I'm going to remember, I'll remember. It doesn't matter if I don't want to." He didn't move from his place – instead he pressed his forehead to Tyki's shoulder and closed his eyes, sighing.

"But not right now?"

"You're naked and I just had a nightmare."

"Does that mean you want me to soothe you?"

The boy made a sound like a chuckle and a crooked smile moved across his lips. "It means you can help me get in the tub when you get back. I want to stay in bed with you for as long as I can. If you get hurt or something… I don't know. Just… lemme go back to sleep holdin' you, ok?" Lavi's voice dropped in volume at the end, though more out shyness than uncertainty.

Tyki didn't know if it was what remained of his humanity or something darker that willed him to do exactly that. He only knew that he gathered Lavi against him without thinking. They fit together almost too well. "Would you mind if…" He let his voice fall to a whisper, "I looked on your eyes for a moment? They may not hurt, but that could be a bad thing if we do not take care of them." Gently, fearing the redhead would jerk away from his touch, he took the boy's chin between his fingers and pulled his face up so the circles of his irises caught the light.

Lavi's eyes flicked upward, but didn't seem to focus. They were still irritated looking, though less than they had been, and they blinked with forced slowness. A dark spark of fear burned a little behind the left while the right remained dull and apparently sightless, the pupil overly large even for the dim light.

"I'll need to wrap them in case you encounter bright light. They aren't reacting properly."

The redhead's eyes shut again. "How long before you leave?" He pushed himself up a little, which in turn slid the blankets down his bare chest and exposed the crooked wrapping on his left shoulder, the faded scars where his ribs had been cut and scrapped and, most recently, he had fallen. They were soft pink and white against his skin, shiny and smooth. Though they did not protrude like Tyki's did, they were still marks, blemishes that the boy wasn't even aware of. It appeared as though they might fade further, but it was rather difficult to tell yet, the marks too new.

"A few hours," Tyki said softly, fighting with the frown on his lips. "Did you want to do something else before I go?" At the touch of Lavi's lips to his, slow and gentle and anything but expectant, the frown won.

Pulling away, the apprentice Bookman forced a smile. "I'm… having a little trouble imagining you a coldhearted killer, that's all. I was gonna ask you if you'd explain the premise. Why is there a man in my head who tries to strangle me with vine things? How come stars frighten me? What does the kid who looks like an old guy have to do with any of it? I understand that it's war, and I don't feel anything about the things I do remember, I'm detached, but I still want to know _why_." He shifted uneasily, fingers suddenly buried in duvet, and his expression fell. It was as if the lie of his smile had dissolved, the thoughtful frown underneath burning through it. "I want to know who you're killing. Maybe I want to know so I can justify still liking you, I don't really know." He admitted at last, and a deep blush fought its way across his features. Making such demands and then turning red like an innocent – the boy was a seriously adorable contradiction.

Tyki took in a slow, deep breath before he kissed Lavi back tenderly, because it was a pleasant thing in a conversation that would not be overly enjoyable. Withdrawing, a smile began to play on his lips. "There is always a little Bookman in you, isn't there? Even when you don't need to be one."

Lavi didn't answer. He waited withed his hands fisted on the maroon fabric covering his knees.

"It's a long story," Tyki warned softly, "it might take longer than we have to tell it."

"You can finish when you get back." Lavi mumbled logically.

The Noah sighed. There was no way to get out of it, really, and no harm in telling the truth. He leaned to the side, stretching until he could get to the nightstand drawer that contained enough medical supplies to care for Lavi's eyes and shoulder. It would be better to kill two birds with one stone. "It all started a very, very long time ago. Are you familiar with story of Noah's Ark?"

-- -- --

**Tbc?**


	7. Seeing Red Again

**More SSP. Because TWS only has the epilogue and life is crazy and this just so happened to be done first. Yup. I'm that lame.**

**BTW, no one has noticed the titles of my chapters yet. I'm a little sad. :(**

**Woot! SisterWicked beta'd. If there are still typos feel free to point them out to me. :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray – man. If I did… Tyki would ~($)! Lavi and like it. Though the plotty thing is mind. No stealing.**

**Warnings: Um… a little gore. Little touching. Little jumpy.**

-- -- --

Chapter Seven: Seeing Red Again

Lavi didn't like it when Tyki put poultice in his eyes, but he sat through it anyway, his hands on the older man's knees. Noah's Ark – the thought brought to mind a boat and a city, rain and fire. He didn't know which was true or which was right, so he listened while the Portuguese man wrapped his eyes in swaths of linen.

"The basis of the story goes that the Great Flood – you do remember the Great Flood, yes?" Tyki's voice, resonant with something distant, paused long enough for the redhead to nod. The Noah's fingers, however, were very much in the moment, working even through the movement. "It happened because of the man you met yesterday – the Earl of Millennium or, some would say, the Millennium Earl. He tried to change the world according to God's will. When he failed, the substance that stopped him – Innocence – was spread about the world in the Great Flood." The Portuguese man stopped for a moment while he tucked the bandage into place. "There are two beliefs about Innocence, which is something like rock, it isn't purity. The first is that God created it to stop someone who misunderstood His will and the Earl caused the Flood trying to destroy it. The second is that Innocence was created by a false god and was hidden in the Flood in the hope that those who can use it will not find it in time to stop what will happen without it."

The redhead frowned. "That seems uselessly complicated."

Tyki laughed softly while he ripped at the covering on Lavi's left shoulder, deft and sure. It wasn't until the wound was exposed that he went on again, in the same nostalgic tone of voice. It was almost as if he remembered. "You and yours… you are the ones that can use Innocence. My family and I can destroy it. Naturally, that means our understanding of God is different, as are our goals."

"Then it's a crusade. Kind of." Lavi remarked softly, and tried not to wince at the touch of fingers on his shoulder. "But… if the whole thing goes back to the Great Flood, then that's why people call you Noah? And how come the Earl guy is so old?"

"Magic, some would claim, keeps him alive. I don't know." Tyki's voice had a soft hint to it, a little lie mixed with truth. He knew something else, but he wasn't prepared to share it. "My family is descended from Noah. Our abilities stem from what part of him we embody." He became distracted by something, perhaps Lavi's wound, and his voice dropped in volume slightly. "It is our responsibility to kill people like you."

Lavi felt a thoughtful, completely disconnected frown come to his lips. He wasn't afraid, only slightly confused. "Then why haven't you killed me? If I remember… I'll want to hurt you, and I'll want to make you…" The redhead remembered the creature in his mind, the dark skin, the long hair, the mask. He thought of Tyki's scars. How the two of them fit together, he didn't know, but he knew the two were connected – were similar. Right-handedly, Lavi reached out and traced the line of the Portuguese man's jaw, which in turn stilled the hand on his shoulder.

"Lavi?"

"You have that in you somewhere… you're… that thing with the fern-wings." He felt himself shiver, felt his voice shake, but didn't move his hand away. "And if I remember everything else…"

"I don't want to kill you." Tyki batted the hand on his face away and continued what he was doing with the younger man's shoulder, voice somewhat annoyed. Maybe he had already thought it through and understood what remembering meant, it was hard to tell. "You were neutral before you were one of them. If you remember, I will leave what happens up to you."

"But I might want to—"

"You cannot hurt me as you are. Not physically."

The apprentice Bookman waited, hating that he didn't know the details. He didn't need to know the little parts, just the main ideas, the basics. He understood part of the why – holy war, two sides that could potentially be right, God and the world – but there were things that didn't cover. Like the identity of those Tyki killed so often.

Lavi frowned. "You said that this Innocence is a thing that some people can use? Then… there's like… a limited supply of it?"

"There are a hundred and nine pieces. Or were. Some of it has been destroyed."

"Then… if there are so few… they must be strong so… who are you going to kill so easily?" Lavi took in a sharp breath and spoke almost at once, lifting his right hand with a frantic wave. "Not to say that you made it sound easy! I mean… you just didn't sound at all concerned and I… it's not like I wanna stop you, I just worry and I'd rather know you aren't gonna be in harm's way and—" The soft press of fingers on his lips silenced him. Lavi felt oddly like the man in front of him was amused at his inability to say things even remotely how he meant them, and the feeling made him want to do something childish.

Tyki's fingers moved from the boy's lips to his chin and tugged his face a little forward, where he could feel warm breath on them instead. "That's enough questions for now. I'll tell you when I get back."

"But we've got—"

The older man kissed him, hard and fast, then pulled back just enough to speak against his lips, letting the words form between them. "To make food for you and find something for you to lean on if you really must move around the house, because hopping – however cute – is not a good way to travel. You might break your other ankle and be left completely immobile."

"I'm not that klutzy."

"But you _are_ blind. And there _are_ things you can trip on. So don't argue."

Lavi leaned forward enough to kiss the man in front of him, questions and complaints at once ignored for the contact. It would be enough for now, to know what he knew, to understand that little bit of feeling that divided them, that _had _divided them, but didn't matter now. The people Tyki had killed, the people he would kill, they couldn't matter now – if they ever had to him before. And Lavi couldn't feel pain about thinking that way.

He felt bare, scarred flesh under his right hand and pushed himself to his knees, leaning over Tyki, only vaguely aware that there were still fingers on his left shoulder, finishing the bandage. It surprised him a little when the Portuguese man leaned away and pulled him down. His right hand stayed on Tyki's chest while his left floundered awkwardly until it was caught and his fingers woven between the Noah's. He liked that. He liked the closeness and the feeling of his knees parted around the older man's hips, of his weight settled on someone else's chest. He felt welcome and sure.

He felt like the memories of Armando or whoever didn't matter. He felt that the long-haired scowling Asian boy he had known once didn't hold a candle to the friend he had in his enemy. He felt fine.

Like he was missing something dark and important, that the strange, masked version of Tyki might have something to do with it, but he still felt _fine_.

Alphonse and Yoichi? And a girl named Rina?

Tyki touched Lavi's hips and pushed him back a bit, just enough to make their faces line up better, the redhead's thighs spread over the larger man's hips.

It was all right there. All he had to do was _remember_.

But he didn't know _how_.

With a growl, the redhead pulled away from the man beneath him and touched his own hair, pulling at it until his scalp protested and a hand touched the back of his, just as soft as always. His brain was too muddled with names that weren't right and faces he should have felt for – faces he should have known. The voices were all mismatched and wrong, and he wanted it to just stop for a moment – wanted to forget and remember it all at once.

"Lavi, what's wrong? If you pull your hair any harder, it's going to come out."

It was _right – there._

"Lavi stop!"

"Allen! His name is Allen!" Lavi yelled at the man who was suddenly sitting half under him and half in front of him, his wrists pulled away from his hair. "The white-haired kid with the claw – Allen, right? Not Alphonse or Armando?" Saying it made it fit better, as did the tightening of Tyki's hands on his arms. "I don't… know… I don't… I don't know…" He felt sick for some reason – nauseous – and he tried to cover his mouth with his captured hands, but he couldn't, Tyki wasn't letting go. He didn't know why he felt sick, or why he remembered that that boy was Allen, or why it hurt to remember it – but he knew he couldn't sit on Tyki's lap and feel that way.

Tyki had him leaning over the side of the bed in only a moment, clutching the side of the mattress between numb fingers. He didn't retch like he thought he might, but he shook uncontrollably while his mind did things without him, searching the names and faces he knew and trying to match them, trying to build a past. It needed to stop. It was too much at once – too many wrong guesses and illogical conclusions, enough to make him growl and want to hit something. It was enough to make him want to scream.

"Wrong… it's all _wrong…_" He said to himself, and a woman with dark hair flashed from smiling to dust behind his eyelids. Anna? "Stop—"

The older man, perhaps not understanding, did something Lavi would not have expected from such a nice, if strange, individual – he slapped the boy hard, across his right cheek. The place his hand hit stung something awful and Lavi shook his head in an attempt to clear it. The thoughts halted for the moment, and the names and faces slowly slipped out of his mental grasp – all but the one he had matched the way they were supposed to be.

"Lavi…"

The redhead reached out for Tyki, fumbled, and nearly fell off the edge of the bed when he found a shoulder and arm where he hadn't expected them. Not that it mattered. It was Tyki's arm and he knew it, even if he didn't really know.

"Thank you for… hitting me," Lavi managed, one hand on the mattress and the other shaking on Tyki's shoulder. How Tyki had gotten on the floor in front of him was a complete mystery to the redhead. He hadn't even felt the bed shift. "I think… I should lie down…"

"You're as pale as death, Lavi. What happened?"

With a harsh breath and the images of those people – other people, people he had known before – burning in his minds eye, the apprentice Bookman sank against the bed and rested his head on the edge of it. The blankets were comfortably cool against his forehead, as if he were feverish, and a sharp pain started in the very back of his skull, almost in his neck. He swallowed thickly, trying to ignore it. "I thought… for just a minute… that my brain was either gonna put everything together, or it was gonna explode." He felt a hand on his forehead and relaxed further, concentrating on the smooth way it moved through his hair and then back to his skin, making bangs hair tickle at his forehead. "It couldn't match any of the names with the faces, but it was gonna try until it figured it out."

"That must be something you learned being a Bookman."

"Why would I do that? It sucks."

Tyki laughed at him, that same, soft, unserious laugh that made Lavi want to smile a little. "Well, Bookmen are supposed to have amazing memories, perhaps that means you remember things differently after you forget them." The hand stopped and the man it belonged to shifted, then migrated across the room to the dresser. The redhead stayed as he was while the sound of shifting fabric filled the small room.

"Will you tell me about Allen when you get back?"

The shifting stopped. For a moment, Lavi thought that Tyki had quit breathing entirely, and then the bed dipped by his hips and a hand touched his stomach, tracing over his ribs. The older man sighed. "I will tell you what I know."

Lavi nodded. "You can go get ready now. Sorry to keep you naked so long."

"It's fine." Tyki hardly whispered the words while his hand traced nonsense patterns on the apprentice Bookman's chest. It was soothing and slow. That hand, which could have passed through absolutely anything, flattened itself out and started to move in tantalizing strokes, slow and purposeful. "Lavi… if I told you that I was going to kill people on your side who are entirely unable to help themselves," his hand paused low on Lavi's stomach, following the curve of his muscles downward. "What would you say?"

The apprentice Bookman lifted a hand and placed it on Tyki's. "Don't assume they can't hurt you. And don't… I mean, if you can help it…"

Tyki's hand squeezed as if to make him go on.

"Make them suffer. I don't know why I remember that war is awful, and I don't know why I remember men without hands, wearing bullet burned shirts, gasping for breath, but I do. And I don't want you to have a part in something like that." The redhead finished, and turned his face against the bed a little. "Knife wounds, sword wounds, bullet wounds, infections – I don't remember who or why, but I know…"

The older man leaned down over him, very close, and Lavi felt the brush of fabric against his chest where the line of the man's pants started. They were both still shirtless. "I aim for their hearts, Lavi. Sometimes I get something else, and death comes a bit slower." His hand hovered over the Exorcist's chest, twitching softly against the slightly sore skin there, almost teasing at the life-giving muscle underneath. "I can make no promises."

There was a lie in his voice.

"Then be safe."

But Lavi didn't care.

"I always am."

-- -- --

Tyki didn't think about what Lavi said, didn't bother about just how much better it would be not to procrastinate. Instead, he pulled on his coat, sat his hat on his head, and left the redhead with an ample supply of food and water, and a cane if he needed to leave his place for any reason. The Noah wanted, despite everything, to kill quite a bit. For every memory that returned, he wanted to sink his hand into the boy's chest and yank out a handful of whatever he touched – heart, lung, stomach, it didn't matter. It had never mattered.

He didn't speak to the akuma that followed him through the Ark.

With his gloves pulled snuggly over his fingers and a lie in his heart, Tyki pushed all thoughts and feelings about the redheaded boy in his house out of his mind and focused on what he needed – no, wanted – to do.

He would kill them all. Every Finder, every civilian, everyone. And then he would leave the scrap of Lavi's headband in the middle of it.

Part of him wanted an Exorcist to be there, so he could feel one of them die, feel the power in their Innocence vanish the way it would if he killed Lavi. But another part of him, the part that didn't like the thought of hurting the boy in any way, hoped the Finders would be alone.

Walking down the black streets of the Ark, a sinister smile spread across his lips and showed his teeth – too wide, inhuman. A shiver of anticipation took his spine. He didn't have a double life so much anymore, most likely wouldn't until most of the Innocence in the world was gone, as it was too dangerous to go out with his friends when someone on a street corner could recognize him and catch them up in the fray. This was a half-good replacement. Maybe even more than that. All he had to do was follow his spur of the moment plan and pray that Lavi didn't remember too soon, if ever.

"Lord Mikk," the akuma just behind him had a voice like a normal human – a range oriented three, if Tyki remembered properly, and a personality that was quietly sadistic. He was rather fond of it. "Lord Kamelot would like to know if you would be interested in tea after your assignment is completed."

The Noah of Pleasure didn't let himself frown. His brother knew he preferred coffee to tea, but it sounded so much more formal when it was presented to him as the former beverage. Really, Sheryl was an awful sap. "I can't."

"Oh?"

"I promised a guest I would be home in time for dinner." Tyki explained – at it wasn't a lie this time, if Sheryl insisted.

The akuma made a little affirmative sound and fell silent. It would relate the information to Sheryl and likely have to deal with the man's disappointment, not that that amounted to much when it was something this simple. A decidedly loud protest or an irritatingly whiney sort of plea. And the man was bad at both.

"He hopes to see you both later in the week."

Tyki couldn't help but smile.

-- -- --

"Brat, if you do not get up right now, I will forcibly remove you from the train car."

Allen shook himself a little, and blinked at the man across from him, standing his painfully slim left hand was perched on the bony protrusion of his left hip. Kanda needed to eat more, in Allen's opinion, and cut back on carbohydrates – with his trim stomach and flowing hair he kind of looked like a wide-shouldered, flat-chested woman. With lots of upper arm muscle. And an Adam's apple.

The British boy frowned. "Thank you for waking me, Kanda, though you could have been a little nicer about it."

"Che."

Poor Kanda was always adverse to criticism.

Then again, they had all been a little worse for wear the last two weeks. Lavi was missing – even if his recovered Innocence still loyal to him – and the news that the apprentice Bookman was alive had only been spread three days ago. No one was used to it. They had thought he was dead – he should have been dead. The fact that he was alive, however good; brought with it a thousand questions that none of them knew how to answer – happiness with a very large grain of salt.

Was Lavi dying in a ditch somewhere? Had he abandoned the Order to its fate against Bookman's wishes?

Not even the old man knew. And Kanda was taking it very hard.

With a groan and a quick rub of his eyes, the British Exorcist stood up and glanced out the window at the bright afternoon light, the steamy spring air. It was nice to be here, where everything was green and fresh and new, where the sunlight flaked like golden leafing off the tops of puddles and warmed even the coldest of idiotic hearts. Lavi would have liked it, as long as it snowed. Lavi _would_ like it after they found him and Allen told him about it.

And they would find him, even if they couldn't spare the people currently to search.

With a loud yawn and a groan, Allen reached out for his luggage and pulled it to his side, then turned to the compartment door, expecting to see either Kanda or Link or both waiting for him with scowls. Instead, there was a smiling Finder who Kanda was scowling at, while Link stood behind the taller – younger – man and worried at his gloves with a frown. They were a lot alike, Link and the swordsman, though the former was keener on following orders than the getting the job done. In another world, the two of them might have managed to be something like friends.

The Finder just smiled at him, completely oblivious to the holes Kanda was boring into the back of his darkly colored head. "Thank you for your work, Master Walker, the gate you will be creating today will help us a great deal in searching this section of the country—"

The white-haired boy tried to plaster a smile on his face, tried to pretend that he was just as happy to help as he had always been, but he couldn't. The expression came out fake and painful, and he _felt_ how Kanda's eyes moved to his face to glare at him. He let the lie fall – and his expression with it. He didn't have the energy and, though he would have if he had known where the boy that had come to be his redheaded-step-brother was, there was no reason to waste what he did have on something so trivial.

"You're very welcome."

The four of them, only one smiling, left the train in a swift, well organized line. It was Allen's only hope that they might return exactly the same way.

-- --

There were two of them – that was more than he had dreaded or hoped. Tyki watched as the more dangerous of the two turned in his direction and activated his Innocence, the white, glittery cowl that fluttered over his shoulders painfully bright in the sunlight. The Noah doubted he had been seen, what with how he was standing in the shadows of a very large, dark building, but the Akuma with him were as obvious as painted billboards to Allen walker.

"Engage him," Tyki said to the three he had become fond of. "And lead him away from the other – make him think you're going to kill the Finders."

"Do you have a plan, Lord Noah?" The question wasn't insubordinate or dangerous; it was laced with curiosity and hope, genuine intelligence. That was why he liked it, really.

He nodded a little, slowly. "Compromise him long enough and there will only be him left at the end of all of this – I would rather not fight him until I have the chance to leave him something. Go." He tucked his left hand into his jacket pocket and waited for the machines to follow orders. The rush of air that went with them – seventeen in all – hardly ruffled his hair and shifted his top hat, making it rest awkwardly against the one long forelock of his bangs so the edges of his hair nearly pressed into his eyes. It miffed him a little.

The emotion faded as he watched the cluster of Akuma, following what he had said, spread out and fired at the train station – plowing through wood and Finder and rider alike. The three moved in quick, short movements, never in the same place for more than even a fraction of a second, and sprayed the entirety of the locomotive with small, ball shaped pieces of dark mater that glowed like strange purple snowflakes in the spring light. Given even a moment to charge, the dark matter dissolved whatever it landed on, or exploded, depending upon the likelihood of either destructive force.

The small, innocent looking dust that landed on Allen's Walker's right shoulder knocked him away down the street.

Tyki smiled.

The avenue was in utter chaos. People running in confusion, blood and debris, bodies and ashes, and the hiss of things as the melted – there was utter panic everywhere the Noah looked. In the middle of the mud and the madness was a solitary figure of calm, dark hair cascading down his back in a long, fluttering ribbon of ebony, his black eyes hollow and pointed in Tyki's direction. Even as the swordsman cut down an Akuma he did not change his line of sight, watching the shadows.

This one, the Noah knew, was more observant than he looked.

They did not clash at once, not even when Tyki moved from the place he was hiding. They both waited until the Akuma thought better of approaching the Japanese boy, then they studied each other, the boy's katana pointed directly at Tyki's face.

Another thrill of excitement went up the Portuguese man's spine and he pulled his hand out of his pocket, a too-wide smile on his lips.

The black, blood stained fabric of Lavi's headband fluttered on the breeze a little, showing the silver design in a dancing pattern of dots and lines. Recognition lit the swordsman's eyes and he wavered, jaw and hand clenched so tight they both looked painful.

Tyki smiled. "Lavi is an interesting boy, isn't he? Interesting enough for you to know this is his, hm?" His voice, however quiet in the tumult of shrieks and moans and explosions, was heard like a thunder clap between them. Tyki watched the Exorcist in front of him draw his lips into a snarl that remained silent, white teeth contrasting with the black of his hair. "You can have this if you want it. He doesn't need it anymore."

"What the fuck do you want?" The words weren't a scream like he had expected, but instead a low, conversational sort of growl, completely contradictory to the soft face that said them.

The Noah felt his expression split wider. "To kill you, among other things. But mostly to tell you not to waste your time looking for him – things will not be as fun if you are distracted by one missing Exorcist in the middle of a war, hm?" He waved the cloth between to fingers and chuckled when the other man's eyes followed it. "Now, being that's done…" The headband fluttered out of his grasp, "would you like to tango, Princess?"

-- --

The room was too cool, but the covers were like a prison, weighing down on Lavi's impossibly sensitive skin. He could no more sleep than he could walk without assistance in that state, so he cast them aside and lay with a sheet and one of Tyki's shirts, restless and buzzing from the inside out. Though his brain was not trying to make him remember every ten seconds, there were things behind his eyes that he couldn't understand or hide from, dark eyes and an angry old man, old wounds and smoldering earth. He wanted to forget. He wanted to ignore everything in his mind and start all over again with where he was now.

There was one image that would not leave him, no matter how he shook his head or clutched at Tyki's shirt. That same white-haired boy, Allen, and a dark haired man who might have been Tyki, face obstructed by how the smaller male was standing. The length of a sword, white and black and marked with a cross, stabbed through the man's chest. Maybe it was because he thought it was the man he lived with and cared for him. Maybe it was because he knew he must have cared for Allen at one point. He didn't know.

His chest ached in sympathy.

With a growl, the redhead pushed aside the covers and yanked the shirt he had stolen against him. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to think about something else.

He thought about dinner. And the weather. Going out. He thought about the scent of cigarettes and the soft texture of the older man's hair in his fingers. The curve of the other man's jaw was present in his mind – just the shape of it – and he used it to paint a mental picture of what Tyki might look like, keeping his mind from wandering off to something less amusing or good. In the end, he couldn't decide on a proper nose for the face and made a note to touch it more, otherwise the thing he came up with looked very odd.

But it didn't matter how it looked or what scars there were. He knew every inch of the older man's body, every turn and curve of him, but he couldn't imagine _that_ being the body he had a visual memory of.

Not unless he touched the hollow of his own hip and thought of it as the line of Tyki's.

It occurred to him, as his fingers moved from his hip to his stomach to his chest and finally to his face, that he hadn't given much thought about his own appearance. He had redhead and green eyes. He had a wide smile and well-shaped eyebrows. That was all he knew. Maybe, if he imagined the boys he had dreamed of he could kind of come up with a face for himself – kind of.

It was much easier to imagine Allen.

Lavi didn't want to.

So he buried his face in Tyki's shirt again and tried to block out the past with memories of the last two weeks of his life. His favorite foods so far had been mostly vegetables, and he didn't like spicy things that much – at least not the kind that made his sinuses burn like someone had shoved a matchstick up his nose. He had a good idea of what kind of food went with different seasonings, but that wasn't too hard to learn. How Tyki _didn't_ understand that, Lavi didn't know.

He wished he could read. He wished he could do something – anything – that would help him pass the time. He wished he had a way to know what time it was.

With a groan, Lavi rolled onto his back and threw off Tyki's shirt – he was being ridiculous. There had to be something he could do when the older man wasn't around, even if it was something as trivial and momentary as killing a housefly.

But that he couldn't do that if he didn't know what he could hit.

With a curse, Lavi rolled onto his side again and fingered the bandage around his eyes. They didn't hurt, but they felt odd. He wanted to take off the bandage and try to see himself in the mirror, or try to find a color he could recognize. With his eyes open he could just make out shadows and lights – everything else was a mystery. Maybe time would heal his sight the rest of the way but he did not want to wait to find out.

A rush of air like that of a door opening somewhere in the house made the redhead turn in that direction, groping about for Tyki's shirt half in fear, half in the desire to have something to throw. Floorboards squeaked and something crashed – but it hadn't even been an hour since the Portuguese man had left. With a frown and his hand clenched on the pathetic weapon of his caretaker's clothes, the apprentice Bookman sat up on the duvet and wet his lower lip, apprehensive and expectant at the same time.

"Tyki?"

-- -- --

Allen felt sore and sick and tired, but that didn't stop him from limping back to where the train station had once been. He moved slowly because his body ached from the explosions – the third level Akuma had brought friends he hadn't noticed, not until they were shooting him the back with bullets bigger than his left hand.

Now he needed to find Kanda, see if Link had made it out of the train's wreckage, and access the damages.

The air was still thick with sounds of pain and fear, heavy with smoke and ash. The light that he had liked so much on arrival was dyed a dirty red by the debris. Buildings burned in small fires, most of them small and content not to spread. He frowned at the lack of enemies. Trust Kanda to demolish more than ten Akuma while Allen only managed to get his hands on five. The swordsman was nearly unstoppable, but it still surprised the British boy a little when he found himself out-fought by a man with a lower sync rate. Not that he really cared.

Such were his thoughts when he caught sight of something he hadn't expected – something too short to be Kanda but with a flowing banner of hair just like the Japanese man's – and increased his pace to get to it faster. He felt fear bubble up in his chest, followed swiftly by horror, and ran to what had to be Kanda, booted feet pounding hard on the dust and blood covered cobblestones. He could see that the swordsman was on his knees, head tilted toward the sky. Something was wrong. Kanda was just sitting there with his jacket tangled around his arms behind him.

There was blood pooling around the swordsman's feet.

In a flurry of torn jacket and snowy hair, the British Exorcist made it to his comrade's side and immediately covered his mouth with his right hand, too shocked to express his terror in words. A length of dark cloth was tied over Kanda's bleeding eyes so the gore that marred his face seemed to seep from it, while Mugen – still in tact – protruded from the ground behind him, shoved through the pale backs of the Japanese man's hands. His breathing was fast and shallow so the note left on his chest moved with the billow of his lungs. It didn't matter what it said. His broken fingers twitched against the blade of his Innocence and he swallowed without speaking, and his shoulders trembled with strain, quick and jerking. The pallor of his skin and blood on his lips told of other less obvious injuries.

Without warning or pause or taking the time to feel the icy, deadly emotion in his gut, Allen gripped Mugen's hilt with his right hand and stilled the swordsman's fingers with his left. He pulled. The katana slid from the ground and the Japanese man's hands with a sick, wet sort of sound before Allen dropped it at Kanda's side, his attention turned to the blood on his _friend's_ face.

"Bean—"

"What the Hell happened?" The white-haired boy untied the black fabric from around Kanda's head and threw it aside at once – which he immediately regretted. His heart sank to his stomach at the sight of the older man's eyeless sockets; even if Kanda's legendary healing ability seemed to have stopped the blood flow already. It was gross and scary, and he could tell by how the swordsman shook that he was in pain. Allen felt somehow glad that Kanda could reach out to him with his broken hands, and touch the fabric of his coat – something that never would have happened and they would never speak of now that it had. It made Kanda seem human though, and trusting, which was more than usual.

"Noah." The word was a harsh, angry curse on the Japanese man's lips. "That cloth – it's Lavi's headband."

Allen felt his throat grow tight. Missing his eyes, the Innocence left untouched – it could only be Tyki Mikk. He tugged the note from Kanda's chest and turned his gaze away from the headband he had torn from the swordsman's face; if it was true he didn't want to think about it. He couldn't think about it until he knew what it meant. "What did he say?"

Kanda's hollow eyes drifted shut. "He knew… Lavi likes carrots."

The white-haired boy bit his lip and looked down at the not in his hand. It was folded softly in half, written in either red ink or blood – he couldn't say in the hazy light.

He read it.

_He does not want to come back to you. Do not look for him._

_I will kill anyone that tries._

He read it again. A third time. It didn't make sense. If Tyki Mikk had Lavi, and he had wounded Kanda so badly, why was the last line so very much like an offer for peace? And why did Kanda have his left hand wrapped around Mugen's pommel instead of groping at a handful of dust? It was illogical. Part of it had to be a lie.

"Oi." Kanda's voice snapped Allen from his thoughts and he looked up at the other boy to find himself staring into a pair of blind, foggy eyes – still sightless but much better than they had been even a moment ago. It astounded the British Exorcist how quickly Kanda recovered from wounds. Still, they never talked about how it was that he did it.

"Sorry. He left a note."

"Tch. And?"

Allen felt like scowling at the swordsman's demand. Instead, he smoothed the yellow piece of parchment against his leg and read it in a ghost of a whisper, worried what Kanda would do when it was finished. He was surprised when Kanda didn't react with violence or anger, and instead fell into a thoughtful silence, his right palm still pinching the edge of the smaller boy's coat.

"Find Link." Kanda ordered, and snatched the paper of Allen's fingers with a hand that now sported a sore looking scar. "I'm calling Headquarters."

-- -- --

Tyki wanted to cackle at the sound of his name said in such a desperate sort of whisper. He didn't. He stumbled and knocked over a kitchen chair, a hiss in his throat, anger and yearning burning in his gut, fire and pain dancing across his palms. He could still feel the imprint of the Japanese man's katana on his fingers. He did laugh then – at his own stupidity, and caught himself on the kitchen counter, left hand clenched to his side.

It _burned_. Innocence always _burned_ when it hurt him, and this little nick was no exception.

It wasn't a deep wound, just a cut in his side that made breathing a little painful, a slash that oozed darkly colored blood through his fingers and down his pant leg. It made him want to do violent, painful things. It made the thought of feeling someone die in his hands that much better. He hadn't done that. He hadn't killed the man he'd found, even if he'd crushed the boy's hands and torn out his eyes. He snickered again under his breath.

"Tyki?" Lavi's voice sounded closer than before, and this time it sent a ripple of something like desire dancing up his spine. Blood, death, revenge – now he could push the redhead against a wall and have him, kiss him and nibble at his lips, make him squirm and beg and scream – it all went hand in hand. So many pleasures in a single day made the wound seem so much less important. It was trivial. The coppery scent of blood made him want to smile, but that was all his wound did for the moment. He could ignore the pain and the sensation of lingering Innocence if he thought about Lavi, about what they had done and what his friends now thought of him and how very twisted the whole situation had become.

The Noah turned away from the brown countertop toward the hall, left hand still clenched to his side. He walked until he spotted the blind boy standing in the doorway, leaning on the frame and his cane, pale and yet healthier than he had looked in days. It made Tyki shiver.

The redhead opened his mouth to say something, maybe his name, but the Portuguese man caught him by the chin and kissed him hard, only vaguely aware that he smeared blood on the younger man's face in the process. It didn't matter. What mattered was the hand on his chest that slid down to the cut in his side and the way the apprentice Bookman tried to pull away when he found blood. Tyki didn't let him do that, too prepared for more. He stepped into the smaller man with his fingers too tight on Lavi's jaw and his right hand too quick to reach down into the apprentice Bookman's clothing and clench at his backside. There was a moan between them that might have been of pain, but the hips in front of him tilted as if in invitation.

"Wait you're—"

Tyki delved into Lavi's mouth. He flexed his fingers and pressed forward, distantly hearing the sound of the cane tumbling out of the redhead's hand and clacking against the floor. He didn't care. He was drunk with yearning and blood, frustrated at the fact that he _hadn't_ killed the Japanese fellow he'd beaten, angry at the Innocence that still burned on his hands and in his side. And he wanted – _wanted_ so _much_ to hear Lavi beg, to feel him shiver and whimper and have no idea that the very hands that tormented him had done the same to so many others for completely different reasons. He tore the shirt from the apprentice Bookman's frame and pressed his bloodied hand to the crotch of the smaller man's pants, to the heat there, to the sensitive jumble of nerves. It didn't take much effort to stroke it, and it satisfied him how the organ beneath the cloth of Lavi's pants responded without the redhead's approval, quick to stir under such a simple, delicate caress of fingertips.

"_No…"_ Lavi hissed, even as he rocked into the older man's touch. "You're hurt. I—"

"It's nothing."

"You're bleeding."

"It's nothing," Tyki repeated, and flatted the redhead's hand against the thin gash as if to prove it. The pressure there hurt, but it also opened Lavi up to an assault of teeth to his throat. "You shouldn't concern yourself with me."

The redhead gasped so his lips seemed to pout with the sound, the half-hidden rogue on his cheeks grew darker. _"Tyki…"_

The Noah felt himself tremble. "You have no idea how much I wanted to hear you say that…" He growled, then closed his lips on the underside of the redhead's jaw, completely too taken with the heated hardness growing against his palm. He couldn't explain why it was so addictive – why he suddenly wanted the Exorcist's legs wrapped around him, why he might like to see every inch of that body naked and wanting him, seducing him, asking him for more. "Would you forget that I'm wounded if I offered to have you for lunch, Lavi? With a little dish of olive oil?"

"Oh…" Lavi breathed, and tried to steady himself on Tyki's shoulder. "I would but… I mean, I'd _really_ like to, but my hand is sticking to your side, which means it's bleeding a lot, and I'd rather you not bleed—_chea-cheater!"_ Lavi rolled his hips into the Noah's squeezing hand and his fingers clamped on Tyki's shoulder. "Just bandage it you – _stop that_ – tease! Then we can –_ Tyki!"_

The Portuguese man chuckled as he captured the boy's mouth again, slower this time, and pulled his hand away from the boy's manhood, all too aware of the little whimper on Lavi's lips. He could wait that long. He could clean and cover the wound, then satisfy himself with the Exorcist who wouldn't understand the irony of his actions – the humiliation that others would feel in his place.

Tyki frowned a little, withdrawing. He didn't want to humiliate this one, even if he was an Exorcist. He didn't want to cause him pain. He wanted to kill him, a little, but also wanted to be close and gentle, to reach into him without using his powers and touch something that no one else could. The Noah kissed the boy more softly, shallowly, and moved his right hand tenderly against the young man's backside, following the curve of it down to his thigh with a sigh. He pulled back again, but remained close enough to speak against the boy's lips. "Alright, Lavi. I'll cover the wound, then we can see if I am still mad with wanting you, hm?" The Noah shifted away and changed his grip to the young man's hips, holding him steady. It didn't surprise him at all when the apprentice Bookman made a face like he was marginally disappointed. He smiled despite the boy's wrapped eyes and flushed features. "I didn't kiss you too hard, did I? Or make you stand on your bad ankle?"

The redhead swallowed and shook his head, obviously flustered. "No…" He reached up until his hand bumped into Tyki's top hat, which nearly knocked it off. The boy caught it, a little frown pulling at the edges of his lips. "I'm fine. You gonna be ok? I mean… it doesn't feel like much more than a shallow knife wound, but your hands are cold."

"Well…" The Noah smirked and nestled his face against the shorter man's throat, grinning. "I would be better if you weren't responsible and concerned for my health, but..."

"Stop that, you might change my mind."

Tyki laughed. "I apologize," he mumbled against the apprentice Bookman's neck, "for making you want me. Now, if you'll take my arm, we can see to my side and then, perhaps…"

Lavi smiled then, for the first time since Tyki had walked in the door. The expression, however genuine, was softer than most of his smiles, small and warm. Tyki did not even need to see the apprentice Bookman's eyes to know that it would reach them. "You can give me a bath?"

"Maybe. Afterward."

-- -- --

**This shall be continued! And reviews are love even when I forget to respond to some of them. D: I'm sorry.**


	8. Live in Fire

**Hello, readers. Today is… MY BIRTHDAY. Again. Crazy, huh? And, to celebrate, I will be going on a four day trip with some friends starting tomorrow. That means I DO NOT HAVE TIME to answer all of the REVIEWS for last chapter like I NORMALLY would. I'm sorry. It came down to giving you this, or answering reviews, and I seriously doubt you want me to keep this for four days.**

**I'll answer them when I get back, and maybe a few before I leave tomorrow. Today, though, is packing and insanity D8.**

**SPECIAL THANKS to SisterWicked and Bookkybaby, for catchin' my typos!**

**DISCLAIMER: I continue not to know DGM. But now that I have a second job at a comic shop… DISCOUNT, BABY!**

**WARNINGS: Sex between men. Allen-brat. Stuff that if I warn you about it, it will actually be a spoiler…**

**-- --**

Chapter Eight: Live in Fire

Lavi doubted he had ever been more eager for anything – even his birthday, not that he knew when that was. He helped Tyki bandage the wound on his side with fingers that almost couldn't hold the fabric in place, grinning all the while. He didn't ask what had happened – who or what had done it, how many the Noah had killed – because it wasn't something he wanted to know just yet. If ever. He wanted to pretend that never happened.

So, he threw himself back on the bed the moment the opportunity came, grinning despite it all. Tyki's lust, his longing, wasn't really something Lavi understood completely, but that didn't mean he couldn't learn to. The thought that war and death would lead to sexual desire didn't seem altogether foreign to him – even if he didn't think he himself worked that way – so he understood that the hand that pushed him into the mattress was the same as it had been. It was a bit bloody still, maybe, but it was the same hand that had soothed his wounds and made his food for him.

And the lips that touched his, the chest that took shape under his fingertips, were just the same as they had been when the man had left.

He tried to memorize the things he felt under his palms, to feel where Tyki was and how he responded to different styles of kissing, different sounds and ways of moving. His analysis didn't last long – only until every frustration he had felt against the doorway came back with a vengeance. Lavi wrapped his arms around Tyki's neck and used his left leg to push himself up on the mattress, all too aware of the wide, cool palm dancing across the surface of his stomach. It didn't surprise him at all when the Noah leaned in close, speaking to him in that husky, half-drunk whisper, the sound of it like a soft breeze through dry leaves.

"Did you want to hear what did to the man who cut me?"

Lavi shivered at those words and buried his hands in the Noah's hair. His mind went to the dark-haired man with the scowling face for some reason – Yamada? – before a tongue on his chest took the mental image away. It didn't matter. The redhead didn't care.

He forced himself not to care.

"I realize that surviving turns you on, but…" His fingers tightened in Tyki's hair, tangling the ponytail. He hardly noticed why until teeth brushed over the left side of his chest, over his heart, before they caught a nipple and squeezed it. The sensation was just between pain and pleasure – perhaps both – and it drew a half-startled, half-needy gasp from the redhead's lips. "No. Please. I only want—_Tyki…_" The boy trembled at the touch of a hand on his lower back that pulled him away from the mattress. He bowed at it and the older man's mouth moved lower, open-mouthed kisses painted in its wake.

The Noah paused at the younger man's navel and kissed it, just a soft, innocent sort of contact that spread hot air around the skin beneath it.

Lavi's hands jerked a little. "Switch me places."

The mouth that had only just begun to migrate toward his right hip closed with an audible snap before falling open again. "I'm sorry?"

"I can't see, but that doesn't mean I wanna lie here and let you do whatever. And I can't reach anything worth touchin' with you down there inspectin' at my happy trail." The apprentice Bookman explained, and tugged once more on the larger man's hair. This time the Portuguese man followed it and Lavi smiled, dragging them into a kiss with his left hand while his right reached out to smooth a line from Tyki's chest downward. Lavi was glad the older man hadn't put a shirt on after dealing with his wound – it made finding the hollow of his hip that much easier.

Tyki hummed into the boy's lips before he drew back a bit, just far enough that they weren't actually touching. His breath was harsh and hot – Lavi was thankful, heading that way himself.

"We shouldn't be doing this."

"Oh. And _now_ you're logical?" Lavi undid the buckle of Tyki's belt one handed, frowning. "Fuck _should_. Fuck _me_, Tyki. You were fine with it when I was just lying here, what's so different now?" He pushed his hand into the waist of the older man's pants and smiled at the short intake of breath it got him, at the heat that radiated against his palm. It was satisfying somehow, to know that he warranted that reaction.

The Noah seemed to shake his head – the air was right for it. "If you're sure—"

"Lie on your back and let me ride you if you don't think I'm _sure._"

The older man tilted oddly up onto his elbows, just enough to bring his forehead to the younger man's. "If you are careful with your ankle that might very well be the safest way for us to do this." The words were a growl that made Lavi shiver – imagining what that meant made him bow away from the mattress in encouragement. Tyki's voice was dark somehow, like sweet red wine or cherries.

"Tyki…" Lavi moved the hand he still had in the Noah's hair to the side of his face, pushing back slightly. Between that pressure and a gentle turn of the hand he still had in Tyki's pants, the apprentice Bookman guided them in a roll that, by the time it was completed, had the older man laughing. It was graceless, his arm ended up pinned between them, bent awkwardly to avoid hurting either of them, and he shifted enough to straddle the larger man's hips, both hands on Tyki's chest. He could steady himself that way, and the fingers that tickled their way up his chest were still just as wonderfully frustrating at the new angle.

The Noah slid a bit, likely in search of a pillow. Lavi spread his palms out over the older man's chest and rocked his hips a little, grinning.

"We could start now," the apprentice Bookman whispered. "I want you and you're hard so…"

Tyki's left thumb pressed at the nipple he had yet to tease, and his right hand pulled at the small of Lavi's back bending his stomach forward. "Surely you've heard of patience, haven't you?"

"Right. And absence makes the heart grow fonder. Tease…" The redhead followed the tug of Tyki's hand until he felt the sharp contact of a fingernail on the very tip of his nipple and shivered, breathing harshly. Why that little dash of confusing sensation would make him grind his hips forward he didn't know, but the motion brought a low, appreciative sound to the older man's throat. The nail bit a little deeper. Lavi curled his fingers on Tyki's chest in an effort to stop the moan in his mouth – an effort that lost all meaning the moment the hand on his back slipped down his backside. He groaned and pulled his curved fingers down the older man's chest, just hard enough to make the press of his nails known.

The Noah's hands abandoned his back and began to yank at the redhead's pants. "Buttons… can't even phase properly when I want them too…" He grumbled in his attempt to be rid of them. His fingers were warmer than they had been before, perhaps in part from touching and in part from covering the wound in his side, and he used them to trace along the sensitive skin of Lavi's loins.

The redhead tilted his face back toward the ceiling and rocked again, harder this time. The hands on his stomach clutched at him. "Can we do this now… I… Tyki…"

"_Yes…"_

Lavi took that to mean he should remove himself from the older man's stomach but he found there was no need to – the Noah rolled them to the side in a maneuver that smashed the redhead's good leg and brought his hips into line with Lavi's, the redhead's back laid flat on the mattress. From there, the larger man took a firm hold of his clothes and began to pull on them, jerking them toward Lavi's feet.

The boy sought out Tyki's pants, but when the older man's hips slipped into his hands, he found them gone already, likely pushed onto the floor. For only a moment he was disappointed that he didn't get to strip the man himself – then there were fingers on his thighs and his mouth was covered with an open kiss, fast and hard. He tried to answer it, tried to reach out and pull the Noah closer, but the kiss broke and a hand closed in his hair, bending his head back to expose the length of his throat. He could only hold Tyki's head close to him and gasp up at nothing, the hand tangled in his hair too strong to fight and his mouth too far away to kiss. Lavi didn't really care. The fire of teeth on his skin was enough for the moment.

"We have—" The apprentice Bookman touched the back of the Noah's neck with his fingers and felt the teeth hovering over his pulse close in response. "Something slick?"

Tyki made a low, affirmative sound, and his remaining free hand caught the boy's hips and pinned them against the bed. "You're fine with…"

Lavi felt the little awkward stop in Tyki's voice and knew what he was thinking. "Yeah. It's fine. Won't knock it 'til I try it or remember tryin' it." He half joked, grinning. "You do whatever you have to with your fingers, then I'll get on top of ya. You feel so…" He didn't really know what word he was looking for so he let the sentence linger on the air between them, forgotten yet still meaningful.

"I do not know if you have done this before, Lavi. If you haven't, it will hurt." Tyki warned almost tenderly, his voice a bit too thick with desire and hot with passion to actually manage the tone at the moment. His hands vanished from Lavi's body but his hips stayed pressed flush, the bare skin of his arousal brushing softly against the apprentice Bookman's right thigh. The drawer beside the bed opened and shut.

"I think I knew that." The redhead half-laughed, uncertain. He didn't allow his mind the moment it wanted to conjecture on who he might have slept with – he just lifted his left leg a little at Tyki's prompting and pressed his right hand to Tyki's chest while his left pulled the coils of the Noah's hair closer to him. The strands tickled where they brushed, the same as the lips that pressed to the side of his mouth.

Something made a sound like swishing. A hand pulled his leg a little higher. "But you still want it?"

Lavi nodded without pause. It was sex – and he knew sex was fun. And he liked, trusted, and understood the man he was doing it with. What reason was there not to? "If you keep asking me, I will find a way to pin you down and take you, fuck your funky powers."

The man above him chuckled softly, then kissed the apprentice Bookman one last time. "Alright. I won't ask anymore."

"Good."

"I am going to wet my fingers and then touch you with them – you can't see, so…" Tyki didn't finish. Something made a sound like a cork coming out of a bottle. The older man's voice became softer. "Would you like to help me warm it up a little?"

With a thoughtful nibble of his lower lip, Lavi reached out for whatever it was that Tyki was offering – and understood the moment he felt cold, slippery fingers touch his. He wound their hands together and pushed himself up just enough to kiss the Noah – his thumb slipped around the back of the Portuguese man's palm as if it belonged there. It was true that Lavi's hands were smaller and bonier, but that didn't make him feel weak or overpowered by Tyki's. He felt like they shared something between their palms, something besides whatever oil it was that the Noah had found beside the bed.

Something tightened in his chest.

Someone else. That feeling didn't belong to the man he was with now, but he couldn't remember who it was for.

"Tyki—"

"Ready?"

The hands they still kept together moved between then, toward the place that Lavi knew he wanted them to be. With his fingers tangled in Tyki's, it didn't surprise him at all when the other man touched the ring of muscle just outside of his anus, and circled it with tenderness that didn't make sense with the power that the Portuguese man contained. That first brush should have been hard and excruciating, it should have been empowered with all of the heat and lust that had been in the hallway – but it wasn't. The finger moved as if Lavi would break if prodded too harshly, and the lips that still rested on the redhead's teased him into a kiss that was two parts warmth to one part yearning, deep and languid.

Lavi hummed and urged Tyki's hand a bit. The Noah followed the urging.

He hissed softly. It didn't hurt, but the sensation brought to mind a million things that could have felt better.

"Relax…"

"_You_ relax with a finger in your ass…" Lavi groused, and caught the older man's lower lip between his teeth. He bit it just a little painfully before he released it, and kissed the place he had pinched with his mouth softly open. "Can you hurry? I don't know how long I can hold—"

"_Sim._" Tyki breathed into Lavi's chin. "That means _yes_."

Lavi hooked his left leg on Tyki's hip in the hope of making things easier. "Good. Because I want you." He took his dry hand – while the one tangled in the older man's warned him what was coming – and circled the Noah's length, stroking it with just the tips of his fingers. "I wonder how it will fit when your finger—"

"Carefully." Tyki answered the unfinished question with an airy whisper, stroking his digit a little deeper. He was very delicate with his motions, even if his breath hitched at the same time that Lavi's did, cued by the entrance of his second knuckle. He shifted a little, just so his mouth pressed to the apprentice Bookman's ear, warm against the sensitive shell.

"Can we be careful and go faster?"

Tyki chuckled, and pressed inward more steadily – which caused a sensation that made Lavi want to pull the man closer. He began to pull back at some point, then pressed inward again, faster than before. "Is your leg really that easily tired?"

"Shut up." Lavi turned his face into the older man's hair, feeling the curls of it press against his cheek and forehead. "I just want to be able to enjoy this. So…"

"Then I'm adding another." The Noah warned. His tongue flicked softly against the shell of Lavi's ear, invoking a light shiver. Tyki laughed softly under his breath and did it again, the same as he pressed a second finger beyond that tight ring of muscle, still tender but now forceful, bending gently and turning in an undefined pattern, moving apart on occasion. "See? It's easier when you're relaxed."

Lavi lifted his hips at the sensation, driving the fingers just inside of him a little deeper. He moaned softly, and turned his face enough to lay his lips on the side of Tyki's jaw, the sharp turn of it pleasant under his lips, the warmth of the skin smooth and reassuring. He moved his fingers on the older man's length in the hope of showing his appreciation more than he could with his mouth. "God, you feel good…" His fingers curled a little more tightly and stroked downward, then squeezed again on the way up, hard and steady, because it was currently the best Lavi could offer. "I don't know how long I can stay relaxed, you know. If you take too long I might just get annoyed and do it mysel—"

"If I rush this, I might hurt you."

"Did I ever say I didn't like that idea? Because it's kind of hot."

Tyki's made a low, needy sound at that and the organ in Lavi's hand jerked in response. The redhead would have smiled at it – at the fact that he now knew that though normal sex was good for Tyki, he did have a darker secret he would be willing to share – and moved his hips again.

"Lavi—"

"Fuck me."

Tyki's two fingers pressed together and then curved into him until Lavi bowed away from the bed, a wave of pleasure washing through his lower half. He gasped against the older man's throat, rolling his pelvis at the sensation. He lost his hold on the other man and grappled for the nearest thing he could cling to. It was new, but he had known it would come. It was good and familiar, even if he hadn't known he knew of it until it had happened. Lavi groaned for more of it. The words he meant to say bled into each other, yet the fingers repeated the motion as if they could read his mind.

"_Tyki!"_

Their combined hands were pulled away from his body and pressed into the covers for a moment before Tyki's left his. There was a sound like liquid, something wet rubbing, and a heated mouth against his, quick and hungry and desperate for a taste of him. Lavi gave all he could and took the hand that came back to his. It pulled him upward while another arm curved around the small of his back – it was awkward but he threw himself into the motion until the two of them had nearly switched places, the larger man laid out on the bed beneath him, his own thighs braced around Tyki's hips.

The Portuguese man tried to coax him upward, but Lavi couldn't think of a way of doing that without using his broken ankle, so he reached down to find the length of the other man's arousal pull it into a position that he might slide it into him, rather than rely on gravity.

"Lavi…" Tyki's voice was lower than usual, the hand he had on Lavi's hip slid to his thigh. "You should let me…" The words dwindled with little more than a tilt of the redhead's hip.

Lavi could feel the head of the Noah's erection pressed against him and knew that he needed only to ease himself forward to take it in. "Didn't I tell you?" He lowered his grip to the very base of the older man's arousal and squeezed the hand in his, hoping to use it as something of a lever. The muscles in his left leg quivered a bit when he tensed them, which was the only warning he intended to give. "Fuck should." Lavi jerked his pelvis forward with as much force as his left leg would give him, a harsh sound of pain and surprise in his throat.

Tyki matched the sound and the motion. His hips lifted from the mattress and his hand pulled on Lavi's, tangling it in the (maroon) duvet. That one motion was enough to keep the apprentice Bookman from bending away from the Noah, his breathing hard and shallow.

"Shit…" Lavi whispered, half biting at his lower lip. The feeling was strange – painful, yet not to the point of ruining the pleasure – and the feeling that it was _Tyki_ in that place made him shiver. He used his right hand to feel the body under his and slowly, with fingers that shook, trace his way to the scars that marred the Noah's chest. He didn't think about them – instead he curled his fingers on the older man's ribs and heaved himself forward again, just to be sure that he had everything Tyki had to offer, and to know that this was all the hurting there would be.

"Did you hurt… yourself?" The question, however soft and strained, held a note of genuine worry that made Lavi smile.

He nodded slowly. "I think I might have." Lavi felt the body beneath him move until the hand on his thigh slithered to the small of his back, and the chest under his hand lifted away from the mattress. The change of angle shifted the length inside of him just enough to send a bolt of pain and a spiral of pleasure dancing up his spine.

"Slip forward a little," Tyki pulled softly on Lavi's back, just enough to press their chests flush, and then allowed his fingers to wander down the cleft of the redhead's backside. His fingers, however warm, moved in ways that made the redhead shudder, his palms pressed to the scars on the Noah's back. It was far too arousing to be that close to the other man – to be around him and yet enclosed himself – the length of Tyki's hair brushing against his right cheek. It was soothing, despite it all, and tantalizing, a change in texture that he hadn't been expecting, scented with smoke and sweat and other pleasant things, none of them unfamiliar.

There was blood in it, too.

Lavi didn't care. He buried his face in it anyway, breathing too quickly against the side of the older man's jaw. "It's not as bad as it was." He admitted softly, and nuzzled more deeply into the Portuguese man's hair. "You feel so good…"

"I think you've bruised yourself, but it should be alright," Tyki responded softly, and his hands moved to Lavi's hips, smoothing gently over his skin. "You're very… very tight. It might be a good idea to give yourself a moment before we—" He cut himself off with a gasp, fingernails turning on Lavi's skin. "Just what are you doing with your mouth, Lavi?"

The redhead smiled against the older man's jaw and breathed out his nose, shivering. "Licking you," he said matter-of-factly, and pulled back enough to blow cool air on the place he had wet with his tongue. "Can you keep yourself up like this? I'd like it if you'd be able to hold me. And I can feel your chest this way… God…" Lavi shivered, following the line of a scar with his fingertips. "You taste good, you feel good, you smell a little off, but I want…"

"Put your arms…" Tyki didn't have to finished when Lavi wrapped his forearms around the larger man's neck, giving himself a bit of something to hold on to. The Noah's hands settled low on the redhead's backside, just far enough to elicit a small moan from the boy's lips. "Good."

"Can I—"

"Try—"

"_Tyki…"_ Lavi tightened his arms and pushed with his left leg at the same time that Tyki pulled him gently upward. The feeling was strange and yet pleasant, even more so when he eased back down again, and the chest against his unleashed a shaking breath. It was enough to send him moving up at a faster pace – the sound was intoxicating, the feel addictive, and the brush that length _inside_ of him made it all too wonderful not to go on with enthusiasm. The press of Tyki's fingers curling on his backside sent him up again, his own breath catching on the way down.

The Noah leaned his face into Lavi's collar. "You're a natural," he hardly breathed, lifting the boy's frame again.

With a growl, Lavi followed the sound of the older man's voice to his mouth and laid an open, impassioned kiss on the plush surface of the other's lips, wordlessly. There were no words, really, no memories. There was only his flesh sliding around Tyki's and a pair of strong hands on his hips; everything else was trivial. The kiss, and how the Noah moved into it with little prompting, proved to him that the enjoyment – the intimacy – was mutual to the point that Lavi doubted for a moment that he could finish and remain little more than forced friends.

It wasn't that he loved the older man, or that he cared more than he had before. It was simply that the act meant something to him, something more than just touching and fumbling in the dark.

He wanted to explain it. Tyki's grip on him dragged him up faster.

The words never made it from his mouth. The older man's arousal hit something within him, arching his back and tensing his muscles at the surprisingly good sensation it caused. Lavi had expected it from before, but the feeling and the thought were entirely different. He moaned softly into Tyki's jaw, and tried to thrust his hips in encouragement.

The Noah whispered his name and lifted him again with more speed. The strength in those hands was more than it should have been, moving him with ease. Lavi didn't think about it. He thought about the sound of his name – bittersweet like an ill begotten confession of love.

It repeated again and again, while fingernails bit into his skin. His urging brought one hand away from his body only to come back on his neglected erection in a brush that curled his hands against the Noah's shoulders. His name almost muffled the word of encouragement in his throat.

"Can you – like this?" The redhead's question, though vague, was rewarded at first with only a grunt.

"On your back…."

Lavi nodded. Even if he wouldn't be able to do what he wanted, the leverage, the angle – it would all be better placed, he understood. It still shocked him a little that the two of them tilted until his back was pressed against the cool blankets, Tyki still pressed inside of him – now sliding out and slamming in without warning. The change freed the redhead's hands, but he didn't move them. He turned his face back into Tyki's neck and inhaled, breath catching in his throat.

A well-timed stroke of Tyki's fingers and a well-aimed thrust of his hips left Lavi feeling two waves of pleasure at once, a combination that curled his arms more tightly and sent him straining into the next motion with an encouraging groan.

Tyki did not slow, nor did he speak. His newly freed hand slipped to the mattress and held his weight next to Lavi's ribs, the contact of his wrist like a feather on the redhead's skin.

Lavi slipped his left hand into Tyki's hair and pulled him closer, lifting himself into every quick snap of the older man's hips. "Close." The warning didn't quite do the tight feeling in his abdomen justice, but it was only a word – only a breath – then they were kissing again, warm, soft lips pressed over his own. There were so many places he wanted to touch, so many sensations, so many thoughts that had nothing to do with heat in his chest and the fire in his gut, that Lavi could only hold on to the Noah and gasp. The world was drawing in again, into the duvet and Tyki's hair, their bodies and the sound of their breathing, and the sudden, arrhythmic pleasure inside of him.

The man above him, panting and shaking with exertion, made a sound like a whine. His mouth pressed into Lavi's throat.

With a shudder, the sensations became too much for the apprentice Bookman. The fingers on the length of him and the soft teeth on his throat drove him into a heated, dark oblivion, fire and pleasure burning through him at once. The Noah's name danced on his tongue for a moment, then the teeth on his neck were clamped on his skin and the pain was far, far too much and his muscles were vices that held him to the man that made him feel that way. It was more than it had been. There was something like feeling in him, even if what he felt was something Lavi didn't understand. It was that that made him hold on with all of his strength while his arms shook, riding out wave after wave of white-hot enjoyment while Tyki milked him for all he was worth.

The nearly silent breath between them – it sounded vaguely like his name – was the only warning he had before the larger man spent himself in a rush of wet heat. The resulting sensation was somewhat uncomfortable, but Lavi decided he didn't care. The weight that collapsed onto him – the weakness that brought them together with all the force of gravity – was too good to fight.

For a moment, Lavi simply lay there, breathing in tandem with the body pressed against him. His backside ached, but he didn't think about that at the moment. He thought about the sweaty hair curling against his cheek and the fading shivers in Tyki's back, which he caressed with his fingertips, ignoring the scars.

"Lavi?"

"Do you feel better now?"

The Noah didn't respond for a moment. He took in a deep breath and let it out softly. "Yes."

Lavi nodded and wished, burying a hand so far into Tyki's hair that he could feel the man's scalp, that he could see the effects of what he had done on the older man's features. "Good."

-- -- --

"Damn it, Kanda! Just let me do it!"

"Fuck you!"

Allen found it quite irritating that even more than half-blind, the Japanese man could still hit him. The swordsman had admitted, some hour after losing his eyes and minutes after mysteriously growing new ones, that he could make out light and dark and color, but no shapes or definitions. Still, Kanda hooked his golem to the phone line by feeling alone and attempted to squint and touch his way through the numbers needed to make a direct call to Komui. He had failed numerous times at it, but that didn't encourage him to let Allen dial the numbers for some reason. Instead, he gritted his teeth and continued to fumble his way around the rotary-dial, scowling even harder than before.

The British boy was a bit irked, but he understood a little. He understood that Kanda had Lavi's headband tucked in his breast pocket and the note crinkled in his right hand. For Kanda, Lavi wasn't just a friend really – he was the _only_ friend, the _only_ trustworthy individual in all the world, and it hurt to lose him. Or something like that.

Still, he really didn't have to be such an ass about it.

"Please just let me turn the numbers?" Allen tried again, and this time he didn't try to grab the phone like he had before. His jaw still hurt and he wasn't _that_ stupid. "Kanda…"

The Japanese man narrowed his eyes and raised his lower lip.

Allen sighed. "You aren't going to scare it into calling him. It'll be faster if—"

"Shut up. Go sit with your inspector."

"He's unconscious. He won't know that I'm there."

Kanda turned at those words and narrowed his strange, unfocused eyes at the boy beside him. His irises, normally a color between gray and black, were colorless, just a shade darker than Allen's. It made the Japanese man's glare that much more eerie. "I do not need your help. You are distracting me." It was obvious that he was fighting with his temper, fighting a losing war, considering how he bared his teeth and laced his voice with undertones of frustration. The black phone in his hand – belonging to the inn he had wandered into – was trembling slightly in his fist.

With a sigh he knew would sound condescending, Allen placed a gloved hand on the back of Kanda's, on the whitish-scar that hadn't been there until Mugen had been shoved through the backs of his hands. This time, the Japanese man didn't pull away. "I understand that you're upset, Kanda." Allen whispered, and prayed that being slow and gentle would win him ground where being forceful and demanding had not. "He destroyed my Innocence once. He punched a hole in my heart. I needed help to gain back what I had lost." He tried to hold Kanda's eyes, but it was difficult when they didn't seem able to focus on him. "Just until you can see again… let me do little things. Like dial the phone. I'll even use your finger if you want me to."

"Bean… Sprout—"

"Besides, it's more efficient if you actually talk to Komui in the next six days, right?"

With a growl, the swordsman brandished the phone at the younger boy. "It will not take me six days!"

"It's an exaggeration! Do you want me to do it or not?!"

Kanda's face fell slightly, fell in a way that Allen had never seen it fall before. He was suddenly empty, or perhaps it was eyes, devoid of light and color, as they lost their anger. His left hand moved once more to the rotary, but he didn't turn it. Instead, he spoke very softly, as if he didn't remember that Allen was there. "It's not like that." His glare returned just as suddenly as it had disappeared and he turned back to the object of his frustrations, eyes narrowed. "What number is this?" He hissed, and placed a long, pale finger next to the five.

Allen told him.

They got through the number in less than a minute.

While the line rang, Kanda bashed the British Exorcist on the top of the head with slightly more strength than was necessary to be friendly, pulling a small yelp from his throat.

"What was that for?!"

The swordsman made a face at the wall, holding the receiver to his ear. "You called me slow."

It wasn't much, but that glimmer of how Kanda was before, angry, not empty and rude. It reassured Allen a little, as did the steadiness of the Japanese man's hand while he counted the seconds it took for the line to be answered. Kanda could be impatient, that wasn't so strange, it was seeing him grief ridden, with the light of fear in his eyes that didn't fit at all.

"Komui, Kanda." That was the lamest way to greet someone, ever. "No. We were attacked at the train station. Our Finder is dead, we—"

There was a sound like shrieking, the voice painfully high and fast and sudden. When Komui talked like that, it was pretty obvious that he and Lenalee were of the same family, even if she never quite made it to that octave.

"Stop talking about stupid things and listen to me!" Kanda didn't exactly _roar_ the words, but a woman – the establishment was small and wooden, with thin walls and small doors and a staff that looked at them with eyes that were half-worshipful, half-scathing – dropped a plate in the kitchen to Allen's right. Without thinking, he shot her a rueful smile. "Tyki Mikk has Lavi."

That wasn't how Allen would have worded it. And his voice wouldn't have sounded that grave.

"He had the idiot's headband." The words were strange somehow, perhaps because they were soft even if they were angry. Kanda didn't say things in that tone unless he was talking to someone on business – which this didn't qualify as. The swordsman ran his fingers through the fringe of his hair and tilted his face up, half-blind eyes partially shut to the overhead light. "He left a note. It says he'll kill whoever tries to take him back."

There was a pause, then a very soft question from Komui. Kanda's face became somewhat bland again.

"No. The inspector is unconscious."

Allen felt that he might want to sneeze.

"Yes, I—" It was that tone again, but Kanda was cut off before he could go on. He growled, low in his throat. "Che. You think I'm that stupid?"

Allen wished he could magically know what on Earth they were talking about. Instead, just as he was beginning to think that Komui was going on a rant that rivaled most that he dedicated to Lenalee, the Japanese man hung up, his eyes still on the brownish wall in front of him. Without looking, Kanda disconnected his golem before he turned his face down at it, almost thoughtful – except that Kanda didn't actually think.

"You're with me until your inspector is awake." Kanda still didn't look or raise his voice, instead he released the golem and let his eyes flutter shut, his annoyingly long eyelashes playing against his cheeks like ebony feathers. He almost – if it was even possible – looked like he might need a hug. "We're going—"

"To have your eyes looked at," Allen whispered, "before you get us both killed looking for Lavi."

The swordsman didn't sneer at the British boy. He didn't say anything about how he didn't need to be looked at, or how it was a waste of time. He turned in Allen's direction and cracked his eyes into two silvery slits, though the expression wasn't quite a glare. "I can see, Bean Sprout. It's fine." Even as he said it, he didn't meet the boy's gaze – most likely because he couldn't distinguish it from Allen's hair. "You aren't… going to stop me." It wasn't a question, but it was painfully close to one. Like Kanda was afraid of the response he would get to it.

With a sigh, Allen held up three fingers on his right hand, the second two very close together. It was a simple test – if Kanda could distinguish fingers, he would be able to distinguish Akuma, and the two of them could dig up as much information on Tyki and phenomena in the area right off. If not…

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Bean—"

"It's _Allen._"

The Japanese man scowled, but turned his impaired vision to the smaller boy's hand. "Che… two… no… it's…"

"_Kanda…_"

"Damn it, I'll cut them off if you try to stop me!"

"You can't see them to do it!"

"You're whole hand, then!"

Allen tried to huff, but trying and doing were different when it was _Kanda_ he was huffing at. The breath came out sounding like a muffled _'bloody idiot'_ rather than the formless sigh he had been aiming for, and that rewarded him with a glare at the wall behind him. "If you refuse to wait until your eyesight comes back, I will drag you to the inn we are _supposed_ to be in, take you upstairs, tie you up, and go find a doctor – and by the time I've done that, don't you think your healing ability will have handled the problem?" Allen made a sweeping motion with his right arm, one that Kanda couldn't really follow. "If you go out the way you are, you'll just be easier to kill!"

"And if I don't, it might be _him_ who dies instead!" The words shouldn't have come out like that, they shouldn't have been Kanda's. It didn't make any sense at all for him to say something like that for a friend or for anyone – especially not someone he seemed to tolerate the existence of like Lavi. The motion he made, the movement of his right hand to Mugen's hilt, didn't seem as threatening as it should have been. "We can't lose another Exorcist. We can't lose—"

Allen shook his head – because Kanda was far too dense for his own good. "If _you_ die, we still lose an Exorcist!"

Maybe, if Allen thought about it, Kanda looked like a turtle – but only when one said something to him that made him stretch his neck out away from his shoulders and widen his eyes in surprise. It was a strange expression, one that usually appeared on the battlefield just as the tide had turned against the swordsman. This time, it was because he seemed to have glazed over something important that Allen the Idiot of the Order Walker was about to point out to him.

"Listen, you fucking Noah of Stupidity—"

"If that's really what the Musician is, I should pass him to you when I die, shouldn't I?

"That rabbit doesn't have a way to fight. Even blind and deaf, I'd have better chances than he does." Kanda ignored the insult and went right on, winding his fingers around Mugen's handle. "I'm waiting one hour. If it's not perfect by then…"

Allen wanted to reach out and touch the man in front of him, wanted to figure a way to sooth him. If it had been Lenalee, it would have been easy. If it had been Crowley, it would have been simple. But this was Kanda. Lavi seemed to mean so very much more to Kanda than he let on, more than anyone else had, otherwise the swordsman would have known how to deal with what was going on. It surprised the British Exorcist. He had always known that the Japanese man cared, had always understood that the time they had spent together was slowly guiding them toward friendship, but he had never known just how far that bond already went between Lavi and Kanda. It frightened him a little.

He closed his eyes and held out his hands, because Kanda would kill him if actually tried to hug the Japanese man. "We'll just have to wait until then and decide what to do. One day won't make that much of a difference, Kanda. If Tyki wanted Lavi dead, I'm sure he already would be."

"We don't know that."

"You're right. For all we know, he's dead already and this is all a way to make us dash in without thinking. Wasn't it you who told me not to do that?"

Kanda did sneer at him then, but didn't argue. Instead, he turned away toward the door, moving with all of the obvious anger and frustration that he felt. It would have been good for him to go from his place by Allen and out into the afternoon light, for him to do that one thing without help or trouble, but he didn't see a chair in his path and thus tripped over it. The curses and the sound of his hands on the wooden floor were enough to make no small number of guests turn to look at the strange half-blind priest and whisper to each other, frowning at his plight.

"I suppose…" Allen mumbled to himself. "That is one way to move forward."

-- -- --

**TCB! When I return from Marine World! If any of you are there… I'll be the girl with the blond hair and black glasses who doesn't look her age at all. :3**

**Thanks for reading! Sorry once again about the reviews!**


	9. Seven Sins of Wantonness

**Niamh is busy, so it took me a while to get ANYTHING written this time. Work kills.**

**The good news is, I think I'll be able to post the TWS epilogue about the time I post chapter ten of this, so the LaviYuu peoples will feel the love just like you Lucky readers. :) AND… I have more fic ideas regardless of the fact that I was hoping to write something original for yaoi con again this year. Anyone else going? Could be totally fun to meet readers! :D**

**Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray-Man. If I did… there would be a dgm-K-ON omake. Because we all know Mio is Yuu-chan in disguise.**

**WARNINGS!: References to the gore in previous chapters… plot movement, and a little snuggly naked. Other things that could spoil future plot points if I point them out.**

**s22k09rox – I'm glad you liked it! And thanks for reviewing on AssHat. :D I hope that the finished story meets your expectations, because at this point, there are three potential endings… and I dunno which one I'll use. In any case, thank you for reading and encouraging me. :) ~Niamh**

**-- -- --**

Chapter Nine: Seven Sins of Wantonness

Tyki found it difficult to understand Lavi's logic. Despite the fact that they both needed to bathe and their nakedness was far more intimate than anything he was normally comfortable with, the apprentice Bookman insisted on keeping him tangled up in the blankets with little kisses and playful caresses, braids in his hair and messages written on his skin. No one – _no one_ – had tried to keep him abed that long for any reason, especially not since the incident on the Ark. It surprised Tyki a little how the pain in his scars seemed to fade under the Exorcists touch, how the brush of tender, innocent lips against them made him shudder and want to recoil with something besides discomfort or fear. The boy complimented him. Touched him and spoke of such idiotic ideals as perfection and hope.

The Noah really didn't care what Lavi talked about. He cared that the boy had a soft, lazy smile, and a way of making him feel as if the world could not be any more perfect than it already was. He felt that, despite the fact that he had not killed the Asian man with the sword, nothing could go wrong for any reason at all – not even his family.

Sheryl and Road and the Earl were pushed out of his mind for the moment, simply because they could not compete with the person scrawling symbols on his chest.

'_очень симпатичный парень.'_ That was what Lavi was writing. Tyki, however, hadn't the slightest idea what it meant.

"_Ochin privlikateenei parin."_ Lavi whispered, and laid his mouth on the line of a scar, the plush of his lips far too tender and far too warm. The touch, the play of his breath, was like the brush of something too soft to be real. "I think that's Russian…"

Tyki nodded, even if he didn't really know. It didn't matter. He was content to lie with the redhead's weight on him and follow the movement of the boy's fingers with his eyes, too calm for his own good. The boy was an Exorcist. The boy was dangerously close to him. And yet, even the pattern of the letters _L-a-v-i-s f-a-v-o-r-i-t-e p-i-l-l-o-w _on his skin didn't make Tyki worry about their contact. It was too good to be a bad thing. The light in Lavi's expression, the laughter, were too meaningful to push away with those fingertips.

"We should do that again eventually." The apprentice Bookman went on, softly. "Except that it makes me wanna be really, really close to you an' I dunno if you're ready for that yet."

With a soft chuckle, the Portuguese man did the one thing that his mind conjectured that the situation warranted and rolled enough to pull the naked body beside him as close as he could. At once there were fingers on his ribcage, tickling at his skin. "What was that about being close?" He inquired down at the grin that turned up at him, fighting a laugh. It was too easy. There was something like warmth balled up in his chest, and it was just so simple to blame it on the redhead and his contagious personality. The boy was so very happy despite it all, even blind and terribly alone. Even knowing that Tyki might have killed someone he knew.

Lavi almost giggled. "Well, if you're _that_ comfortable we can go for another round…"

"If you have that much energy we should bathe."

"Together?"

Tyki found himself rolling his eyes despite the fact that Lavi couldn't see him. Really, the Exorcist was incorrigible. "Maybe in a few weeks, when I won't have to worry about your leg as much."

The boy growled, but didn't protest further. Instead, with his expression somewhat slack, he pressed himself once again against the older man, curling into his chest. "Will you help me get in the tub when I get up? Even if I'm alone it'll be—"

"You want to sleep?" The Noah could hardly believe the extent of Lavi's love of the pastime, but it seemed logical now, even in the middle of the day. With slow fingers, he reached out and smoothed a little path over the boy's cheek, pulling his face up. There was something very nice about Lavi's face that Tyki couldn't place. It was there even when his eyes were covered and his mouth was downturned with tiredness. "I suppose that was quite a bit of physical activity, wasn't it? Stay here, I'll find something to clean us up with." He started to shift away, but the brush of a hand on his arm kept him still.

"Do you have somewhere to be today?" Lavi pulled his hand back almost awkwardly, frowning a little. "I mean… it's not like I want you to stay or anything, but… if Road and Shirley and that… _benefactor_ guy are all connected to you, there should be someone you have to report today to, right? Like, mission status, or something?" The little redheaded genius continued to shrink into himself for a moment, though he didn't turn his face away when he started to blush. "Because I'd like to go with you, if that's the case. I don't want my memories to make me want to leave, so if I get to know everyone… if I grow attached to them…"

Tyki nodded. "I will wake you in time to bathe, devise a more secure cast for your leg, and dress you for dinner – they won't mind if you're swimming in my clothes, I promise." He retraced the line he had made under Lavi's eye, too aware of how it the Exorcist leaned into the caress. "You can stay with Trisha while we talk of less pleasant things – she is Sheryl's wife. You might like her."

"I'm kind of male though… so no shoving me off with the wives." Lavi breathed, and pressed Tyki's hand a little more firmly against his cheek. "But I understand. If I hear what you're planning and my memory comes back, and if that makes me want to tell the other side what I heard—"

"Don't talk about that." Tyki discouraged in a whisper. He could see the apprentice Bookman's features shifting from tired to analytical, and it wasn't a change he liked in this situation. The less the boy thought about remembering, the better off they would be. It was just how it worked. Oddly, the complaint about gender took a moment longer to register in Tyki's brain – and a small smile tugged at his lips. He pressed a thumb into the soft arch of Lavi's frown and pulled his face closer. "Did you just suggest that you are my significant other, Eye-patch?"

A mischievous smirk lifted the boy's lips a little. "I don't see anybody else helpin' you cook and sleepin' with ya."

Tyki harrumphed. It wasn't the answer he had wanted, but it was good enough. For now. He leaned in enough to lay his lips on Lavi's as they smiled; pressing passed the barrier of the boy's lips with no resistance. Softly, Tyki let his tongue flutter against the roof of Lavi's mouth, and felt a little spark of triumph in his chest when the boy moaned and leaned closer, shaking slightly. It was too easy, too wonderful. It was too tender how Lavi's fingers trembled against his chest, needy and softer than a wisp of air on his flesh, slow and warm. It almost painful to pull away, even if that made absolutely no sense whatsoever to the Noah.

The mouth against his, the plush red of Lavi's lips already bruised from prior kissing, parted in a gasp that didn't quite sound like a whimper. The boy reached up and touched the line of Tyki's jaw, tracing it with his thumb. "Please don't do that unless you want me…"

The Noah smiled at Lavi's whisper, at the pleading note of yearning still in his voice. It was addictive. It was wanton. It was everything Tyki wanted to fulfill and deny at once.

"I would like…" The redhead's thumb shook at almost the same rhythm as his voice. "I want to do it again sometime when you aren't bloodthirsty. When you aren't… drunk on death and bloodshed. But I would… right now… if you want me…"

Tyki blinked for a moment and decided, with only a moment to choose, that there was no point in denying that request. Not now. Not when affection and tenderness were written across the apprentice Bookman's features. "I am not overcome with destruction, Lavi, not anymore. That kiss was only for you." For once, the sweetness wasn't a lie, not in his voice or in his fingers. It was honest and somehow frightening, even if he liked it. "Can you walk to the bathroom?"

The redhead nodded slowly. "But… sleepy—"

"Not yet."

-- -- --

Of course, Kanda couldn't just sit in the room and _rest_ while he waited for his vision to improve. No. He had to meditate at the least. Practice half-blind sword techniques at the worst. The guy was awful. Not only did his nearly sightless displays of swordsmanship prove painfully superior to Allen's, they also didn't so much as catch at the fringe of his coat or change the lay of his hair. The strokes of Mugen, the lines it painted in the air even when Kanda closed his eyes to it, were always perfect.

So when the Japanese boy made an irritated face and threw himself on the bed he had claimed, Allen found himself very, very confused.

The inn was a good one, clean and scented like new wood, with ample windows and two beds of decent size and firmness. The color scheme, though everything matched, was a sick sort of green that kind of reminded the British Exorcist of day-old spinach leaves, faded and starting to slime. If anything, that was the only complaint he could find with it. Everything else seemed perfectly in order, managed and cared for.

That was likely the reason Kanda hadn't said a word about the ruffles on the curtains or the flowers on the dresser. It was too nice to point out the feminine touches and scowl at them.

Still, the long-haired Exorcist was making terrible wrinkles in the vomit-green comforter. And if he turned his glaring face just a little to the right, he'd likely make the flowers wilt. He really couldn't just close his eyes and rest. He couldn't go forward at a pace that wasn't breakneck and stupid. It was as if he didn't appreciate any of it, not even the white haired boy who frowned at him from the farthest window, arms curled around his chest.

Allen kind of wanted to leave the swordsman to stew in his own juices, but that would be mean. Instead, he met Kanda's half-hooded gaze and studied it, watching the older boy try to pull him into focus a few times before they closed.

"Che. Enjoying yourself?" The words were bitter on Kanda's lips, like he expected Allen to snicker at his obvious irritation.

Honestly, the white-haired Exorcist didn't feel like it at the moment. "No. I was just thinking that… if it comes down to it, you'll figure out a way to function like that. But if it had been someone else…"

"Hmph." Kanda's mouth almost curved into a smile.

Allen shook his head and turned his face away, looking out the window instead of at that strange, ironic expression. The sun was still out, though a number of rain clouds were moving in from the west, lumbering like heavy purple elephants trekking across the dome of the sky. It was still warm, but that wouldn't stop the rain. Anyone outside, anyone wounded and left for dead, anyone waiting in the darkness of an alley, blind like Kanda and begging the Noah to let him go—

Not Lavi. Allen wouldn't let himself think of Lavi in that situation.

"I know that you hate me," he whispered to his reflection, to the shadowy face that had begun to take over his own. "But if you want to talk about it – about Lavi – or about why you're so determined to go out there and get us both killed, I will listen." He ran his right hand down the length of his left arm and circled his wrist in a movement that was almost the same as how the swordsman sometimes held on to his katana. It was reassuring. The feeling of Innocence, even at rest, gave Allen courage. "I'm worried, too. I don't want him to die either. But I've only seen you lose it once and that wasn't like—"

"Shut up." Kanda bit out softly, though he didn't move from his place on the bed. There was a threat in it, deadly and nearly unvoiced. There were things he never wanted to talk about, and he had made it painfully clear that that was one of them. "I don't want to talk about this with you."

Allen sighed. "It's not like you can talk about it with Lavi."

Kanda almost bristled, almost went for his blade, almost did any number of very stupid things. Instead, he lifted his right arm and put it over his eyes, blocking out the room. It was a tiny crack in his very hard exterior – Allen bit his tongue at it. "When we find him, you are not going to tell him I was like this."

"Of course not."

"And you won't tell him that I _admitted_ to knowing I was."

Allen laughed softly and released his left wrist. The face in the mirror, the ever smiling face, almost looked sad. "I'm not out to hurt your pride, Kanda. He's basically the only person you've allowed to get to you; I won't hold that over your head because it's _good_ that you care." The British boy fought the urge not to look at the man who shifted behind him, most likely seeing a flicker of maturity he hadn't realized the existence of. "I miss him, too, you know. It isn't like you're the only one who liked him."

"_Likes_. Present tense."

Allen smiled and looked over his shoulder, too amused for his own good. "You understand basic grammar? I had no idea."

Kanda didn't look at him, still with his arm over his eyes, but he did sort of smile. It was a huge thing for him to say something like that. It was even bigger for Allen not to take the opportunity to tease him for it. "Che. Just shut up. I'm not going after him right now, so you can gloat."

"I don't feel like it." The British Exorcist admitted. "I feel…"

"Worried."

The boy nodded. "I'm glad you aren't a compete arse, Kanda." He turned back to the window and looked beyond his reflection this time, out into the broken sunlight, the shadows of trees strewn across the dirt street behind the inn. It was pretty, if only because it was simple. A part of him wanted to go out and enjoy the day, but that wouldn't be a smart decision. Not until he knew if they were going to make a gate still or if the presence of a Noah changed that. Instead, he leaned his forehead against the glass and closed his eyes. "You're not…alone—"

"I know." Kanda didn't quite hiss the words, but it was close. "Stop being like Lenalee and go back to being a brat, Brat."

"Are you sure you don't want a hug or something?"

"Che. Go hug a cactus."

Allen laughed, though it wasn't because the words were actually funny. It was the thought of Kanda – prickly, angry, irksome Kanda – suggesting he go hug his plant-cousin, the cactus. It fit too well. Sharing the thought, however, would undoubtedly get him killed, and it wouldn't work out if he tired to embrace the swordsman as to show his thoughts. He would have to keep it to himself for now. He could hug the Japanese man when he wasn't paying attention. Or when he felt like being murdered.

"I think…" Allen glanced back at Kanda, and smiled at the one, gray-blue eye that turned in his direction. "I think things will work out in the end."

With a slow, deliberate blink and a frighteningly sincere smirk, Kanda turned his face away from Allen and the window. In a movement that was painfully out of character he turned on his side, curled so his hands pulled the vomit green comforter toward his face and held it out of sight. If Kanda was looking at that color and thinking of something or if he saw something else there entirely, the white-haired boy could only guess. "Fucking hope."

-- -- --

"I think I'm falling for you."

Tyki laughed at that, his large hands splayed on the smaller male's shoulders. His lips were very close to the redhead's right ear, breathing hot, feathery air across the shell. His thumbs pressed a bit on the back of Lavi's neck, tilting it against the cold side of the tub.

Even if he couldn't see it, Lavi knew that Tyki was naked behind him, by the feeling of wet skin on his back and thighs. It was lovely and intimate, and the movement of the older man's semi-experienced hands just made it so much better. The light touch of lips on his jaw, the swish of warm water on his legs – they were made far nicer by the press of painful fingers to his spine. It was good enough to make him lean back and moan on occasion, eyes resolutely closed to the ceiling above him. After the things they had done, and the sudden leap in how close they could be without being awkward, the last thing he wanted was to ruin the moment by opening his eyes.

The Noah had understood his decision not to open them yet, and had made it something of a game to try and shock them open. It wasn't going to happen this time though. Not when the apprentice Bookman was melting into the bathwater at little more than a touch.

"Really, Tyki. You keep up this hair-washin' and body-massagin', and I will be your cooking, pining needy young lover forever. Or until I'm old. Whichever happens first."

"Old, I would hope." Tyki said with such surety it was almost disconcerting. His right hand, which had only a little more strength than the left, curved around the boy's waist and pulled him close – very close – before it slipped down Lavi's hip and bent him forward just a little. Like that, the older man placed his chin in the boy's shoulder and nibbled the skin there, then kissed it just as softly. The contact almost made Lavi laugh.

"It's funny," the redhead remarked quietly, "I didn't know you would be this touchy-feely."

"Does it bother you?"

Lavi shook his head. "It just… makes me think…" A face, familiar and yet completely unknown to him, appeared in his mind before it dissolved into darkness. He doubted he would recognize it even if he met the person on the street, blind or not. "I don't know. I don't mind though, that's for sure."

The Portuguese man shifted enough to relax, leaning all of his weight against Lavi. "Then you will still want to sleep next to me when we are out of the tub?"

"Mmhmm. I can't talk you into not goin' out with the family, huh?"

"I'm afraid that there are some things I can't whine and mope myself out of."

"What if I mope and whine?"

Tyki's arm tightened a little around Lavi, while his chest rumbled a little against the boy's back. "Road might give you a sucker. Or try to stab you, depending on how she feels."

"Great. I think I'll smile and nod; I like my organs." The redhead tried to make his face pout, though he didn't think Tyki could see. It didn't matter, the expression would be in his voice at least, and even the older man would hear it in the echoing environment of the bathroom. "It's okay if I get to go with you, though." He sighed, and leaned his head back, wet hair pressed to the back of his neck in cold, stringy tendrils, all of which were beginning to dry in what he knew would be unattractive waves and knots.

"Trisha will be nice to you, at least."

"Shirley's wife, right," Lavi nodded to himself, recalling the man who sounded like Tyki, but lacked his panache, somehow. If they looked alike it was hard to say, but they sounded similar enough to be brothers – even if the tones were different the way they formed words was the same. Anyone who would end up with Tyki's sibling would likely be a friend of Lavi's. Maybe. "Will you be around if I need you?"

The Noah's head bobbed against Lavi's neck. "Assuming we must go into different rooms, I'll be within calling distance."

Lavi hummed, lifting his left leg a little as he turned his face into Tyki's neck, swishing the lukewarm water against his stomach. It was still comfortable, and his right leg didn't hurt with the motion, even if it was still too early to let it bear any sort of weight. The apprentice Bookman tired not to think about that. He thought about the smell of the man against him and the hand on his ribcage, the water and the toes that brushed against his left foot. It was bad that he didn't want to leave. It was worse that the thought of being in a different house – one he didn't know the layout of – scared him more than being left alone.

The unknown wasn't supposed to frighten him. The correct response, though, wasn't something he remembered.

"Tyki?"

"Hm?"

Lavi willed his brain to stop conjecturing at things and let his eyes crack open a bit against the Portuguese man's throat. The room around him was lit, he could see, and lightly colored, but he couldn't tell if the man he was leaning on was tan or gray or black, nor if the light came from everywhere or just a single place. Shapes had no meaning. It was all flat and mixed, confusing and painful. "What will we do if I remember everything? What will we do if… I was in love with somebody else?" Even as the words tumbled out of his mouth, Lavi regretted them. The body against his stiffened and the arms around him threatened to crush his ribcage. The reaction was almost an answer in and of itself.

"Do you think you were?"

"I don't know."

"Lavi…" Tyki's lips spread warm air against the place they touched on the boy's temple. It was terribly soothing, terribly intimate, terribly close to something the apprentice Bookman did not want to lose. He cared. He cared too much to know what he wanted. "If you were… I can only hope that I haven't killed the lucky girl yet. I'm sure it would ruin my chances at competition."

The redhead smiled. "Really?"

"Really," the Noah repeated.

For a moment, Lavi didn't move from his place, too intent on what had been said. Slowly though, as he ran the conversation through his mind, something caught his attention and stopped his analysis short a little less than halfway through. A slip of the tongue, an accidental phrase – it caught his attention and held it as if he were a moth attracted to a flame. His chest was tight and warm with it, with the fact that, despite it all, he didn't mind in the slightest how his confession had seeped from his lips and gone completely unremarked upon, missed in the moment. It was better that way. If he was truly in love, if the feelings would last more than a few days or a week or however long it took the older man to see him as too high of a risk – there were too many questions to repeat it with any degree of surety. Still, it was in the air now. And it explained more than he was willing to admit at the moment.

"If you're going to sleep at all, Lavi, we need to get out of the bathtub."

"Okay. Right after I nap."

-- -- --

It was surprising, at first, but Kanda managed to fall asleep on his side after a quarter of an hour of relative silence, the blankets still pulled up next to his face, boots and jacket still on. It made sense when Allen thought about it; the swordsman hadn't slept on the train at all, and no one slept well with their best friend missing or in the clutches of an enemy – and there were his wounds. Really, sleep was most likely the best thing for him, and he obviously needed it, otherwise he wouldn't have closed his eyes to the room with Allen in it, let alone allowed himself to be dragged under by exhaustion.

Still, the asshole of a man was decidedly peaceful in sleep, even if his position looked uncomfortable and terribly restricted by his heavier articles of clothing. If Allen had been friendlier with the swordsman, he might have gone over to take off Kanda's boots by himself, but he figured it was a death wish. Instead, he waited for a bit, just ten or fifteen minutes, before he laid a soft hand on the Japanese boy's boney shoulder in the hope of rousing him without much effort.

The sound Kanda made and the uncharacteristic tremble in his shoulders made Allen doubt his logic.

"Kanda," the British Exorcist whispered, though he withdrew his hand. "Kanda, you can't sleep in your boots…"

Yet, Kanda – the man who could hear a pin drop for a mile and sense the eyes of an akuma even farther off – didn't stir. He was truly sleeping like a log.

It took Allen an hour to decide being caught was better than being stuck with the older boy when he was groggy and he set about removing the swordsman boots. It shocked him a little to discover that Kanda wore mismatched socks, the left one of which was faded to a color between orange and gray somehow, threadbare almost to the point of being holey.

The coat, Allen left alone. It would be too personal to try and extract Kanda from that article of clothing without permission and it kind of functioned as a blanket in the meantime, even if the heavy fabric wasn't too comfortable.

Left to his own devices, the white-haired teen laid himself out on the opposite bed, shoes and coat discarded. For a while, just to distract himself, he watched Kanda's sleeping features spasm with passing dreams. When the frightened and pained expressions the older boy made forced the British boy to think of his own nighttime tortures, he turned his attention to the golem tucked up into his sleeve and the tiny teeth Timcanpy offered.

At some point, Kanda rolled onto his back. Allen wished he didn't need an escort.

By the time Allen felt himself beginning to doze, Kanda jerked awake with a gasp, sitting up with such speed and stiffness that it reminded the younger Exorcist of a vampire rising out of a coffin. The harsh quality to the swordsman's breathing, however, proved that assumption wrong. Kanda had never looked paler, what had to be cold sweat trickling down his brow.

With a curse the Japanese boy wiped at his forehead with his arm before looking down at his sleeve as if he hadn't expected it to be there, dark eyes narrowed. Distantly, he turned his hand over, wiggled his fingers, then turned it back again, studying the red fringe that went around the entirety of his wrist. With deliberate slowness he looked down the length of the bed to his feet before he silently took in the rest of the room, blinking at the green curtains and the sunlight, at the wooden floor and the suitcase he had left by the desk. It took him a long time to turn his gaze to Allen, and he didn't glare when he did.

"You can go back to sleep," Allen tugged his right glove from Timcampy's teeth and tried not to look away from the swordsman's frown. "The hospital hasn't called and you can't see so—"

"No." Kanda interrupted at a whisper. "I can see." His eyes, which Allen noted were no longer silvery-white, narrowed at the younger man's face, then widened again, as if doing so might better adjust his focus. "How long was I…"

"Almost two hours."

Kanda cursed softly, then turned his eyes toward the nearest window, frowning at the afternoon light. He was doing that not-thinking thing again, and making that face like he wanted a hug even though he would kill anyone who tried. It was strange and somehow perturbing – even in the heat of battle he never made that kind of expression, not unless he was shot or zapped or hurt beyond the momentary power of the thing that kept him alive. Why he would make that face now…

"It isn't dark yet; we can go look for any information on where the Akuma came from, and maybe get an idea where Tyki Mikk is." Allen mumbled, turning his face to Tim in the hope of not feeling awkward. "I don't want to make the rendezvous at the chapel until Link is awake – he might kill me if I make a gate when he isn't watching… so we might as well…" His gaze flicked back to Kanda, but the older boy wasn't looking at him, his eyes still turned outside. It made the British boy swallow and pause, unsure how to handle the situation without an insult or a backlash to make Kanda forget.

The swordsman shifted on the mattress until his feet were hanging off the bed, away from Allen, where his face – and that expression – weren't something the younger Exorcist could see. For a moment he just sat there, as if mystified by the things he could find in the room. "Oi." The sound wasn't much more than a whisper, yet Allen still stiffened at it. "Did you take off my boots?"

Guilt somehow filled Allen's chest. He looked at the wall. "You were going to get mud on the blankets."

"You could have woken me."

"I tried."

Kanda didn't scream at him and call him a liar. He looked at Mugen on his left hip and then out the window again. It was all wrong. "Whatever." It wasn't as despondent as it could have been, but there was an undertone of something far too emotional to be real. Maybe it was the dream that had done it, or the act of kindness on Allen's part, but it seemed Kanda was prepared to do something violent or strange because of it.

The white-haired teen didn't like it at all. "Feel free not to answer me seriously but… are you okay?"

The swordsman looked over his shoulder, the rumpled mass of his ponytail rippling down the line of his back like a darker cascade of ebony against his jacket, the irises of his gaze somehow black at that angle in the light. He looked ready to say something unexpected, but when he opened his mouth, something far less world shattering escaped his lips.

"He's not dead."

Allen blinked, not understanding.

Kanda turned away again, and touched the hilt of his sword. "If he was…I would know."

-- -- --

Lavi couldn't _see_ how baggy the shirt was on him, but Tyki could.

And the Noah had to admit, as good as the redhead looked with his sleeves rolled up and his shirt partially unbuttoned, he looked a thousand times better like this. It was just… somehow endearing how the dress shirt hung on his arms, and how the tie extended too far down his chest. It didn't really matter that the boy's eyes were swathed in fresh linen, nor did it occur to Tyki that the way he had to stand on only one foot made him awkward – it was the clothes that made the apprentice Bookman gangly and adorable in his eyes. And perhaps it was his expression also, the little pout to his lips, the way he frowned. Really, the redhead didn't have the slightest idea how… edible he was.

Tyki had to wonder when he had started thinking that way.

Not that it really mattered anyway. Lavi had become someone he was used to, someone he more or less understood, and he found it difficult to grow tired of the apprentice Bookman, or even lazy in his presence. It was true that sex had something to do with it, but that wasn't all. There was friendship too, and a warm, pleasant feeling of closeness that made Tyki think of long nights alone together, small cups of strong alcohol and sore muscles, blankets and gentle caresses. Perhaps that was a memory – he had never wanted anything like that that he could recall.

It didn't matter. When he used his grayish fingers to tug at the collar of the redhead's shirt and smooth it down, none of it really mattered.

His scars throbbed.

Lingering Innocence was an unpleasant thing.

In the half-light of the shaded lamp by the bedroom door, Lavi's hair was almost the exact color of blood. That was all it took – that little hint of color and the turn of the boy's neck – to make the Noah reach out in an effort to feel more of the creature in front of him. He kissed the boy softly on the lips, without the depthless desire he had felt before, and ran a gentle hand through Lavi's hair. When he pulled away from the shallow contact the Exorcist was smiling at him, or in the direction of his face, lacking sight to actually direct the expression.

The redhead, though a bit short for it, leaned upward enough to press his forehead to Tyki's, chocolate-black curls and cinnamon-red locks mingling between them.

Lavi's expression wavered, but he did not frown.

"What will we be having for dinner?" The question wasn't intimate enough for that position, even if Tyki didn't mind it. The Noah wound his arms around the apprentice Bookman's back to hold him steady.

"Fish, I think."

"Hm."

The Portuguese man smiled. "I love fish. Surely you'll at least be able to stomach it."

The boy almost shrugged. "I don't… remember."

There was that. And it made the Noah's expression fall. "Lavi," his cupped one hand against the back of the boy's skull, where a wound had been some weeks ago, and felt for the scar hidden in the mess of red hair there. It was small, but still there, a little testament to what had befallen the apprentice Bookman at the older man's hands. Regret might have been the feeling that filled Tyki's chest. It melted away in a wave of what might have been desire. "You don't have to sound so sad when you say that. It doesn't bother me that you don't remember. You're…" The concept was in Tyki's mind but he couldn't phrase it, couldn't explain what he meant beyond the fact that this Exorcist – however _good_ – was important. "You're not obligated to know things. If you cannot remember, it isn't your fault."

Lavi turned his face down until it was tucked beneath the line of Tyki's chin, his nose pressed into the Noah's throat. When he breathed out, his air spread cool across the older man's skin. "I feel like you mean that…"

"Of course I mean that."

"But it was a lie… before… when you still thought I knew everything. No matter what you said then, you always had that little undertone like you weren't being completely honest. But now…" Lavi rocked forward, turning his face up and reaching into the Noah's hair at once. His mouth stayed just a hair's breadth from Tyki's, while his fingers pulled him up on to the toes of the foot he could use. "I want to kiss you for meaning that."

Tyki felt his lips lift in a small smile. "If honesty is so well rewarded, I might find myself more inclined to—"

"Shut up." The boy pushed himself up and pulled Tyki down, bringing their mouths into swift, harsh contact that the Noah was only half-expecting. The redhead curled his fingers a little more tightly against Tyki's scalp while his left hand wandered to the white button-up covering the Portuguese man's chest. What the kiss meant, what it signified, the emotion that fueled it – none of that made any sense at all. They were friends who touched, weren't they? They were people who lived together and kissed when they felt the urge to, and that was it, right? Lavi made Tyki happy; there didn't need to be anything besides that.

The lazy part of the Noah of Pleasure wanted nothing more than to stay home with the boy in his arms.

That wasn't a _friendly_ inclination, either.

When the kiss broke, Tyki didn't voice his thoughts. Instead, he laid his chin on the top of Lavi's head and tried to understand what they meant. He didn't know.

"When we get there, will you describe the dinner table to me so I don't make a fool of myself?" The redhead whispered.

The Portuguese man had to chuckle. "Only if you tell me what you think the others look like when we're gone."

Lavi nodded, but didn't speak further. Instead, he pushed himself back and reached for the cane Tyki had leaned against the bed for him – which Lavi could now use rather efficiently as a crutch if he wasn't distracted or walking too close to the person on his right. He wobbled a bit with the cane pressed almost to his right hip, shuffling so his left foot only came off the ground for the shortest of moments.

Tyki liked that the boy could make his way to the hall and turn back to him without stumbling, even if it meant the damage he had done was – for the most part – less than what he had hoped. The Noah of Pleasure was losing his touch a little. The redhead, the swordsman – they proved it.

"Can we go? I might have napped, but that doesn't mean I won't conk out on you before the end of the night, you know?" The redhead grinned a little, and the look made him seem far less gentlemanly than his clothes suggested. "And if yesterday was anything to go by…" He licked his lower lip before pulling it between his teeth, worrying at it softly. "You'll want me lively when he get home, right?"

Tyki laughed and took a step toward the boy, catching the coat he had left on the edge of the bed in his left hand on the way. "None of that tonight, Lavi. You're like to wear me out at this rate." It was a lie, but it still made the boy smirk, and that was the point. "Though, I have the feeling if I say no…"

The Exorcist blushed, but didn't flinch at the sound of Tyki's feet on the floor – which he undoubtedly heard. "I would be willing to try, if you'd let me…" His face turned down even as the color rose on his cheeks. "I can't see, but you could help me, like you did before. And if you wanted… I could—"

"Shush," Tyki laid a finger on the redhead's lips, stilling them. "We'll wait until I'm stuffed with fish and you're too tired to walk, then decided if there will be anything but cuddling this evening, hm?"

The boy nodded and the Noah placed a hand on the very top of Lavi's head, stroking through his slightly-damp hair. "Will I need to know anything tonight? Anything I don't remember?" He reached out and slowly, as if he knew that it would make Tyki uncomfortable, touched the place on the older man's coat that covered the line of a scar. "You told me about Innocence, but you never told me what the others can do. I don't really mind not knowing. But if it's really such a bad thing to play checkers with Road, then I'd like to know what _is_ safe, you know? What if she wants to play with my hair? Or what if Shirley suggests cards?" The boy wet his lip in a way that could have been seductive, even if he didn't seem to notice. His fingertips, however intimate, kept the Noah's mind on the boy's words rather than the sweep of his tongue and the rouge on his cheeks.

Tyki frowned. "There are two things you should know, if you must know anything at all…" He didn't like exposing Lavi to the truth – he didn't like risking his memories. "Road… she can create illusions. If she suggests that you play with her, and you say yes, she will very likely try to torment you with things that no longer make sense to you. People you knew, places you've been. Second," Tyki cleared his throat and forced a smile into his voice. "Sheryl is harmless. Well, try not to anger him, if you can help it. Otherwise, he won't even lift a finger against you."

"Anything else?"

"Your hair looks rather brown when you blush."

Lavi smiled almost playfully and turned his head to the side, just so the eyes that Tyki couldn't see might have been batting shyly. "You gonna say things like that at dinner? Or are such unconventional relationships frowned upon?"

"Well…" Tyki felt his eyebrows lift in an expression of mild amusement, "I don't foresee anyone missing the fact that you've taken to living with me – I doubt anyone will miss the reason. But there may be a bit of confusion on if you are a… willing participant in our… situation."

"And Shirley's the one in politics? Christ."

"Lavi—"

"Your Exorcist pet thinks it's time to go, _Master_. If you're ready."

"That isn't what I—"

But the boy was smiling at him, and the nails touching Tyki's chest through the Noah's shirt were more or less tantalizing. "It's fine if they think that, Tyki. Even if I like you more than that, and you wouldn't tell me to do something unless I wanted to, I still find it funny, somehow. And kinky, but that's a conversation we should save for now." Lavi's left hand traveled across the Noah's chest before it paused and curved around the back of his neck, toying with the base of Tyki's ponytail. A little flash of confusion turned Lavi's mouth down before he went on again, soft and sure. "Can we go?" It was a whisper this time, for some reason, and his hand stilled against Tyki's nape.

"Yes, Lavi." Tyki whispered, and fought the urge to lean into the smaller body before him. "We can go."

-- -- --

The town wasn't all that large, which had been the point of coming out here in the first place, but it did offer a lot of strange stories and legends, most of them, in Allen's opinion, worth looking into. The one that most caught his interested was based on pumpkins – which were tasty. Supposedly, the squash in the region would be turned into vampires if left outside at night after Christmas and rolled around town causing mischief, bashing into things, frightening sheep, and whatnot. The thought of catching one – hunting a tasty pumpkin – was very entertaining to him.

But Kanda only cared about a mysterious death two towns over, one that _had_ to be nothing but a rumor. Little boys, no matter their profession, did not magically lose their organs in alleyways. And Tyki Mikk did not leave hearts and lungs behind.

The _modus operandi_ was different. And no Akuma had ever seemed to share an ability with a Noah. It had to be a lie.

Allen kept repeating it to himself, over and over again.

It was nearing dinnertime, the orange, perfectly round disk of the sun sinking down on the west horizon as if it were too heavy for the sky to hold up any longer. He found it pretty, even if it was somewhat disconcerting. He would spend a night without the sound of Link's breathing in the same room – which wasn't something he would miss so much as something he had grown used to – and Lavi would spend another night somewhere else, with Tyki Mikk. If Lavi would have a dinner of blood and a night of torture, Allen didn't want to imagine. No matter what that note had said…

Still, as he watched the reddened cobblestones fad a little more toward gray, he couldn't help but think that something didn't fit. Kanda was alive to start, but Lavi was still missing. And the note, which had come from Tyki – had to have come from Tyki – hadn't been marked at all by the Exorcist in question. If Lavi really didn't want to come home, if he had really changed sides, he would have signed a name on the paper, right?

The grout turned black. A shadow moved a little in front of him and he lifted his eyes to see Kanda not looking at him, one hand on Mugen. Maybe the swordsman was thinking the same thing Allen was, searching the darkening sky for some pattern in all of it, some _thing_ that would show just how far gone Lavi really was. But there was nothing to see in the sky. Not even stars.

So maybe he was trying to start the process of thinking, being he didn't really think to begin with.

"I'm leaving you alone with Link tomorrow, whether he's awake or not." The swordsman didn't look at the British boy when he spoke. "I don't give a damn if it's against orders – you're _loyal_ and I can't take you away from your inspector." The stress on that one word almost made Allen scowl at Kanda, but the Japanese boy went on before he could start to. "It's the only thing I can think of. Because if it was Mikk… and if he does have Lavi… why would he tear the organs out of some… random idiot unless _our_ idiot was getting on his nerves?"

Allen blinked. That sort of made sense. Kind of. In that Kanda's Not-Logic sort of way.

"Not everyone wants to kill the things that annoy them, Kanda."

"He's a fucking Noah, Bean Sprout. I'd think they're more violently inclined than most people."

"You do realize that you're insulting _me_ and not only _them_, right?"

"Che. So? Since when do I care about insulting _you_?"

The white-haired teen narrowed his eyes and felt his right hand tighten. He would not hit Kanda on a day like this, not when it was obvious what was making the swordsman uncomfortable. It made Allen uncomfortable, too, when he thought about being the host for someone that could be a lot or a little like Tyki Mikk.

He bit his lower lip. "I'll be good," Allen promised softly, "and contact you by golem every night and every morning, that way you know I'm not… doing something else." He looked up to find Kanda staring at him, eyes too cold to harbor any readable emotion. "I'll stay in the hospital within sight of _somebody_. You just…" Allen struggled with the look Kanda was giving him, struggled to find something that wouldn't sound terribly like Lenalee and painfully like caring, that wouldn't be irritating and softhearted. "Don't do anything stupid. If you see him, _run_. I don't care if you're angry, you _can't_ beat him alone. He'll kill you."

Kanda's eyes narrowed; the little white scars around them pinched into the lines that were usually caused by smiles. He didn't answer. Instead, he turned on heel in the direction of their inn, scowling at the night air.

"He can kill _anyone_, Bean Sprout. As long as they're human."

-- -- --

**Can you tell I reread some chapters to get a better feel for some of the characters? Like Allen and Kanda especially… because they're kind of hard to write sometimes…**

**Anyhoo! I hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for reviewing! If I missed yours, I blame Tron (my lappy) and its Windows Updates of DOOM.**

**Love for reviewers! Thank you so much for reading!**


	10. Panic Makes Remorse

**Niamh is tired. And must work in the morning. And is working on TWS. And her con fic. Things will be slow.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray-man. Sadface.**

**Warnings: Umm… more… normal stuff? Kanda and Allen being niceish? Character development that's very not in the manga?**

**-- -- --**

Chapter Ten: Panic Makes Remorse

The house was much too large with grounds that winded Lavi before he could get to the overly heavy doors, sweating and panting despite his cane and Tyki's offer of assistance. It was good for him, he knew, after tromping around the Noah's small residence and participating in what did not qualify as exercise. That didn't, however, make him any less exhausted by the ordeal, and didn't stop Tyki from trying to hold him a little off of his ankle, large hands bruising in their attempt to keep him steady. Not that Lavi minded. It was the thought that counted.

It surprised him a little that Shirley answered the door almost as soon as they were on the porch – the _tok tok tok_ of his boots and the _tat ta ta _of Tyki's dress shoes made him think of expensive wood stained in a light color – and noticed they were terribly close to each other right off. Lavi expected Shirley to be one of those slow-witted, annoyingly close people, but he offered something cool to drink and whisked them into a foyer that was too large to guess the proportions of by sound alone.

The apprentice Bookman didn't like the house one tiny bit.

He also didn't like it when Shirley touched him, laying a hand on the crisp fabric of his white shirt and guiding him toward a couch he would have found the location of on his own. He did, however, like that Tyki stayed with him and helped him gauge the distance from the coffee table to the sofa, which made telling the location of the cold tea a servant brought him that much easier. He also liked that, when Shirley wasn't looking, Tyki took him by the chin and kissed his forehead, asking if he was alright and if he felt fine regardless of the change in scenery. That closeness and concern, coupled with the warmth in Tyki's voice, made everything alright.

"I'll be okay," Lavi whispered, and didn't like how he couldn't tell where the walls were by the sound of his voice. "I just didn't know we would be _walking_ here. And then the grounds were so huge… and it's work to walk on one leg, you know?" He stifled a yawn and reached up enough to wind his fingers in the older man's, which for the time being was his only anchor in a very dark world.

"Once we're to the west garden you won't have to get up, I promise." Tyki's voice, however soft, told Lavi that there was now someone else looking at them. "You can sit here and drink for a minute, if you'd like."

Lavi reached out and took the tea from the table, sipping the bitter liquid with gentle lips. "Are they waiting for us?"

"Sheryl looks like he might explode, but no. It is only the five of us at the moment." The Noah's fingers found Lavi's knee and squeezed it gently, just enough to promise safety in a way that a more obvious touch wouldn't have. "We've only just got here and already I can't wait to leave…"

The redhead smiled. "That's just because you like me in your pants, you know. And I mean that in any and all ways imaginable."

This time, when Tyki spoke to him, it was louder than it should have been, with a little undertone of amusement dancing in the back of his throat. "If we weren't sitting on my older brother's couch with his eyes glued to us…"

"Don't even start, Tyki." Shirley's voice interrupted, smilingly, from somewhere to Lavi's left and the door. "You know as well as I do that you're going to do exactly the same thing here as you would alone. When I am not looking."

"Ugh…" Tyki's expression must have fallen, because the hand snapped away from Lavi's knee, leaving the boy bereft and anchorless. But it was back again a moment later, this time wound in the fingers the apprentice Bookman wasn't using for his beverage. "No. Just… no. If there is even a chance of you seeing or _hearing_ or fantasizing over—"

"Why!" The voice was delicate and feminine, soft and gentle, but it was enough to make Tyki silent at once. The woman's shoes warned Lavi that she was coming across the stone floor to them, with a discrete servant not two steps behind, and he released Tyki's hand, thinking the older man's sleeve might be a better temporary handhold. Tyki didn't stop him. "Tyki! Sheryl didn't tell me that you were bringing a guest!" The woman swept down on them with a flutter of air and a smile in her voice. Lavi had the feeling he might like her.

Tyki didn't really seem to. "Are you feeling well, Lady Trisha?" There was something withheld in his voice.

She didn't notice. "Yes. Today I feel just fine, in fact. I'll have to send someone to fetch Road to the garden, but first…" Her attention, and the subject of conversation, turned in Lavi's direction, a change that was almost tactile to the redhead seated on the uncomfortably stiff couch. "Who is this… and…what…"

"Lavi," he extended his hand and, when she laid her palm gently in his, brought the back of hers to his lips for the briefest of moments before he released it. "I fell down a well not too long ago. Hit my head, broke my leg, scraped my… well… I don't remember what _actually_ happened, but that's the story. I'd give you a last name but… I don't remember that either…" He shook his head, and tried to force himself to smile despite the suddenly heavy air. "Anyway, don't let the blind guy with the mysterious past bring ya down! Supposedly, I wasn't all that nice before it happened. So be happy for me, alright?"

It was terribly awkward. Tyki made it that much worse by nudging Lavi's abandoned tea with his elbow before recapturing the boy's fingers.

"The two of you will have to tell me how you became friends over tea, don't you agree?" Trisha's warm voice didn't even waver. "As soon as I find Road…"

"Upstairs," Shirley said at once. "Studying like the wonderful daughter she is…"

"Somehow…" Tyki whispered under his breath, just soft enough for Trisha to talk over him for a moment, "I want to hit him."

-- -- --

"No. Go die."

"Kanda!"

Allen knew that Kanda wasn't in the mood for conversation and wasn't all that into food, but this was _really ridiculous_. Skipping lunch had _not_ been a good idea, and the 'dinner' he had set them down to was so pathetic it wouldn't have fed a parasitic _bean_. And Allen, no matter how skinny and short, was _not_ a bean. He was a young man with things that needed to be fed in order to _grow_ and a stomach that would not be quiet through the night on salad and bread alone. It didn't matter what kind of _mood_ Kanda was in – no force of will could change that.

The city had faded completely into night, and the air had grown slightly chilled as the twilight wore into true nightfall. Still, even with a late frost moving down on them from the north, and heavy rain clouds creeping along with it, it did not seem likely that they were calling a halt to their search. Not if Kanda continued to be a demanding, idiotic prick at least.

"Goddamn it, Kanda—"

"I think He has more important things to do with His time, but thanks for the thought."

"I can't fight if I'm starving!"

The swordsman's coat, which lifted a little in the growing wind, whipped around his knees as he turned, one hand on Mugen, the other hanging resolutely at his side. Kanda's eyes were narrowed with annoyance, but he didn't have as much fire behind the expression as he usually did. He might have been… tired or something. "You can't fight when you _aren't_ starving. Stop bothering me!"

"You're being _very_ stupid, Kanda. Not only because things will be easier with me 'not-fighting' with you, but also because _I_ have more firepower than—" Allen realized what he was saying just a moment to late and let the words dwindle away on the wind. They didn't need to be having this sort of fight now, not when they didn't have wooden weapons and time to make things right. It was dangerous and time consuming, at the very least.

"Did you just try to say that you are a better—"

"No!" Allen cut off Kanda's angry tone before the fingers wrapped around Mugen's hilt could grow any tighter. "Because it doesn't matter anyway! Just… why do we have to fight over everything, Kanda? Why can't you just let me eat so we can question people until the sun comes up tomorrow? And!" The British boy saw an opportunity and decided to take it, just because the words were there, waiting to be said by _someone_, _eventually_. It didn't matter if Kanda was all wiry muscle and might take the words wrong, it only mattered that it was an unexplored line of insults if the Japanese Exorcist took offense. "How do you even function on one plate of food and nothing else? I eat a lot, but you… it's a wonder you're even alive eating like you do! And if you say that that's all you need, I say you're either lying or you have the stomach of something inhuman."

For a moment, the moment Allen thought Kanda would surely spend ranting to him about something related to either their search or unhealthy eating habits, there was nothing but silence. The swordsman narrowed his eyes at the British boy and his lips parted just a little, as if he might say something very softly, before they closed again, slowly. The way he turned and the way he held himself was wrong – he should have reacted violently to Allen and that was it. There was no exception to the rule of Kanda's logic.

"Bean Sprout," Kanda's voice was little more than a growl. "Just shut up. You can eat. Just…" He turned around then, with fire and anger burning in his eyes, and his hand still clenched on Mugen. "Just be _quiet_, already. I'm tired of you yapping my ear off at every street corner!"

There was something else. Something was bothering Kanda, and it didn't take Allen's ability to read bad poker faces to see it.

"Kanda…" Allen looked down at the sidewalk and prepared himself to die. "Yuu."

For a moment, it seemed like the swordsman hadn't heard him. Otherwise there would have been a sword sticking through Allen's chest. Again.

"I'm not trying to be needy. I'm just hungry, Yuu. And…" This time there was a definite twitch with the name, and Allen stepped cautiously forward, easing closer to Kanda's back. Dead. He was already dead. Now he just had to complete his mission before he knew it. "Please, if something in bothering you _besides_ my absolute failure in your eyes…" He prepared himself again, gathering strength in his legs. "Say so." With arms that he didn't think would connect and his eyes squinted shut, Allen launched himself at Kanda's back. Where the idea had come from, why he _knew_ that Kanda needed a hug and would not admit it, he didn't know. He only knew that in the growing darkness no one would see and no one would care, only Kanda and Mugen.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Hugging a cactus. Shut up and take it, Kanda. Or I'll… call you… Yuu or something."

The back against Allen's face was exceedingly stiff, and hard, and muscled under the fabric between them. It might have been comfortable, if it hadn't been _Kanda's_ back. It vibrated when the Japanese man spoke. "How long are you planning on attempting to restrain me?"

"Not restraining you. I'm hugging you. I'm _comforting_ you."

"Bean Sprout."

"What?"

Kanda shift from one foot to the other, as if weighing his options. "I will kill you." But there was no threat in it, and Kanda didn't whirl around to see his threat through at once. Instead, he shifted on his feet again, slowly, and his back relaxed a little – just a little. And then the world was turning away from Allen's eyes and the swordsman was moving out of his arms, his arms that were suddenly weak and reaching for a body that wasn't there. The British boy hit the stone walk with a loud, hissing gasp, pain searing through his abdomen and up his chest, air catching in his throat.

It wasn't until Allen caught sight of Mugen's pommel tucked under Kanda's arm that he knew what had hit him.

While the white-haired Exorcist attempted to catch his breath, the swordsman turned around on almost lazy feet, looking down at him with eyes that burned with silent venom. "Don't touch me. And get up, unless you don't want the food you need so much."

Allen coughed wetly and rubbed at his tearing left eye, stuck between feeling annoyed and feeling satisfied. He had won if he got what he wanted, right?

"Was that… absolutely necessary?!"

"Che. Not like you _had_ to touch me!"

The British boy frowned and pushed himself up to sitting, brushing dirt from his coat. "You need it, Kanda! Half the time you have that look on your face like you really, really just need someone to either kick you in the face or hug—"

Kanda growled low in his throat and turned away, glaring up at the night sky, hands held out in a gesture of true frustration. He spoke loudly, ignoring Allen's attempt to scrub the mud from the fringe of his sleeves. "For the last time, I do not need someone to fucking hug me! I'm _fine_, damnit! So what if I'm not happy? What does it matter if I'm pissed off and worried?! It doesn't! It doesn't change anything! So stop offering to help me when the last thing is I need is your _help_ getting in my way!" With the last part he looked down at Allen, eyes narrowed as if he might have just used the last of his version of patience. "I don't _want_ what you're trying to give me, idiot. Understand?"

Allen blinked for a moment before struggling to his knees and teetering breathlessly toward his feet. Why did Kanda have to hit so _hard_ anyway? "Why not?!" It didn't come out as loud as he wanted it to. "Are you just so incapable of making friends that you can't have one? Or is it because I'm not _like_ you? Because I'm still _me_, Kanda, even if I'm—" He ducked the blow at his face and sidestepped, one arm around his stomach, the other hanging at his side. He wasn't about to use his Innocence unless Kanda did first, and he somehow didn't see that happening at the moment.

"This has nothing to do with you!" The swordsman growled, coming after the smaller boy. _"I do not want your sympathy."_

"There are a lot of things people don't want." Allen hissed. He immediately thought of his own hunger and cursed himself for being so easily distracted. "But we still need them."

"Che." Kanda almost grabbed Allen by the jacket – almost. "I don't need _you._"

"Maybe not… but you _do_ need to talk about what you're feeling with _someone_, _eventually_…"

"Thank you, Mr. Kettle, but I'd rather not talk about _anything_ with you!"

Allen paused, stricken by the wit in Kanda's response, and regretted it the moment he felt fingers tangle in the collar of his coat and yank him forward, feet sliding on the slowly freezing street. He hadn't noticed how cold it was becoming, nor how the air was burning in his starved lungs, until that moment.

But Kanda didn't hit him. Instead, the white-haired Exorcist found himself lifted onto his toes, looking the swordsman dead in the eyes. He could see something odd in them, like fear but not, and it made some part of Allen want nothing more than to reach out to Kanda again, regardless of how little ground he had made so far. So, instead of hissing out another argument or saying something else that the swordsman would ignore, Allen lifted his left hand and placed it gently on the side of Kanda's face.

"Even if it's only until he's back, Kanda… you can talk to me."

The shiver that took Kanda's shoulders opened his fingers and reintroduced Allen's feet to the ground. Without a word, Kanda began walking away from Allen, stiff and sure, his boots making soft sounds on the stone as he went, tied back hair swinging like a whip in his wake. Maybe he was done fighting for now, or maybe Allen had gotten to him, in either case, Kanda had directed himself toward what looked like a restaurant. He moved regardless of the fact that Allen stayed exactly where he was, blinking at the back of the swordsman's head.

"Maybe he just… acknowledged me?" The British boy mumbled to himself, and straightened the lines of his coat one final time before stepping off to follow the swordsman. He didn't try to quiet the sounds of his feet as he tromped to the older boy's side. He shoved both of his hands into his pockets and looked rather closely at Kanda's darkened expression, frowning with just one side of his mouth.

"If you talk, I will leave you here alone. I'm not eating anyway."

Allen smiled as sweetly as his face would allow. "In that case, I'll just listen."

-- -- --

"So you met on a train, but Lavi doesn't remember it?" Trisha's voice was as sweet and friendly as ever, even if it seemed a bit less lively than it had at the start of their meeting. Even if she felt well, the woman was weak, losing steam, slowing down. She wouldn't let it ruin the evening, that was for sure, but she would talk just a little more slowly and spend quite a bit of time in her chair across from Lavi's, gasping every time he reached for the teapot and didn't break it.

Really, she must have had big eyes and really good vision, otherwise she wouldn't have been so shocked by his ability to do things without his.

The _benefactor_ seemed to think Lavi wasn't worth that much attention and spent his time doting on Road. The other woman who came didn't talk to anyone at all, too quiet and reserved to do more than ask for a servant to bring her milk instead of tea. Still, Lavi was set on doing his very best to fit in with them, even if the Earl didn't seem to be trying overly hard to make him feel welcome.

"Yes," Tyki said from the redhead's left, a little smile in his voice. "But it would be more accurate to say that we met the day I brought him to the house in Carrickmines… we hadn't known much about each other until then." He shifted a little, perhaps reaching for his wine glass, before falling silent again. As the evening wore on and the relatives arrived and soup faded into delicious salmon and the salmon into a rice pilaf and cabbage salad, Tyki became more and more content to talk and lounge and generally be agreeable. Maybe it was the fish that did it, but Lavi doubted it. The Portuguese man just liked to eat.

Trisha made a little agreeable sound in the back of her throat. "Then… Lavi," she always said his name when she addressed him, like that might somehow let him know that he had missed a visual cue to speak. "You don't know anything? Not even why you were in Ireland? How are you liking Lichfield? Are you staying long?"

Lavi felt himself frown. "We're living in Ireland?"

Tyki choked on his wine.

"Because we walked here and I don't really see how that could be—"

"Breathe, Brother! Breathe!" Shirley's tone made it obvious that he wanted to cut off Lavi more than he actually wanted to insure that Tyki wasn't about to drown in alcohol. So that was a secret too, somehow. Rather than demand an answer as to how one (or two) might warp from the eastern side Ireland to outside of London, Lavi turned and began to pat Tyki rather violently on the back with his sore left arm, an act that was pointless when the man could just phase the liquor out of his airway if the need really became imperative. The thought almost made the redhead smile.

Tyki recovered before he could speak, and caught Lavi's hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly. "I'm…fine. Just… ehem…"

"Well, I guess that goes to show that you don't remember."

Someone giggled at Trisha's words, but it wasn't Lavi.

"I remember…" Lavi turned his face down, just because it seemed like a more natural position, and wove his fingers in Tyki's. It surprised him a little that the table fell silent at the words, as if everyone wanted to know what he knew, including Trisha. She must have had light hair and a small frame, it was the only thing that fit. "I remember…"

The evening air, heavy with the scent of flowers and the occasion clink of chinaware, suddenly felt so much colder than it was.

'_Lavi!'_

'_Would you shut up, stupid rabbit!"_

'_I'm sorry!'_

'_How old are you?'_

'_About fifteen.'_

'_Well, I'm eighteen. So, I'm like youYr big brother!'_

"A lot of little things, but they don't make any sense to me." He whispered aloud, shaking his head. "Bits of conversations, distorted faces, stuff like that. But the only name that fits anyone is _Allen_." The silence suddenly became tense at the name, harsh, and he knew that the name wasn't one that needed to be repeated. The people at the table – perhaps discounting Trisha – knew who Allen was. It was another thing they didn't like besides piano music. "And all I remember about him is a forced smile and a complete disregard for his own safety. Everything else…"

The hand in his, which he had begun to clench almost desperately, returned his force with slightly less ardor. "You don't have to talk about this, Lavi."

"But I should, shouldn't I?" The apprentice Bookman turned his face toward the Noah whose hand he held, fighting to keep his voice steady. If they all knew who Allen was, then why didn't they explain it? If they all knew who Allen was, then why didn't they know Lavi? "How will I ever get to know everyone, or have them trust me, if I'm not willing to tell them what I _do_ know about my past? Even if it's just…" He floundered for the proper word for a moment. "Useless crap. I mean, if you knew something and wanted me to trust you, wouldn't you tell me?"

The silence was awkward and smothering.

"I would think," Lulu – or was it Lola? – broke in for what might have been the first time all evening. She had a soft spoken way about her that told of either thoughtfulness or laziness, though Lavi felt that he didn't want to find out either way. "That it would be better if you ate with us more often, Bookman. And tell us everything you remember. There might be something that we can…use to help you regain what you have lost."

"Yeah…" Lavi agreed despite the suddenly constricting grip of Tyki's hand. "That's my point exactly."

It was only ten more minutes before it became too cold in the garden for Trisha to remain without endangering her health and she retired, leaving Lavi to sit with the incomplete Noah family, suppressing his own shivers. For a time, casual conversation continued – Road bounded to Tyki's side and began to reprimand him for not taking proper care of his hair, Shirley chuckled good naturedly and poured more wine, including a glass for Lavi. They were normal, it seemed, for the moment, and the hand in Lavi's under the table only made it that much more noticeable.

The feeling only lasted until the man known as the Millennium Earl cleared his throat for silence.

"I trust that you haven't been keeping too many secrets from your guest, Little Tyki?" The man's voice, this time, wasn't at all eerie like it had been, the aura of death and destruction gone from him. He seemed almost normal now, human perhaps, and the knowledge soothed the redhead a little. They didn't seem like bad people, these descendents of Noah, and the Earl seemed less angry than he had before. Maybe, in the end, he had decided that Lavi was fine regardless of what side he had come from.

The Noah holding Lavi's hand slumped forward a little, leaning on his free hand. "He knows of my mission, though he doesn't know the details of it. If you wish, I will ask him to leave."

"Now, that won't be necessary. There are things he might know, even if he doesn't remember them."

Lavi felt that there were eyes on him and reached for his wine, gulping half the glass before he returned it to its place to the right of his plate. Red wine, but not sweet – cabernet sauvignon, not too old, and much too alcoholic, assertive, and bold for the meal. Lavi didn't particularly care that it was a bad match for the pilaf and tasted bitter – he cared that it heated his blood and made the back of his throat want to sing. Maybe, if he drank enough of it, he wouldn't have to worry about Tyki's relatives very long.

"In that case…" Tyki started, clearing his throat. "I destroyed the station and any number of humans, at least one Finder, and wounded… Walker's escort. The other Exorcist that was with him should have died from his injuries – if not he's at least blind. I don't foresee the Order developing artificial eyes for at least a number of years."

There was a moment of silence following those words. Lavi didn't know if that was good or bad.

"I will send an Akuma to their last known location – if the Fourteenth is indeed alone, now would be an excellent time to attack him. Even if he isn't killed, the distraction will give us more time." This time, when someone's eyes fell on Lavi, he knew he couldn't hide behind the glass in front of him. "Tell me, Mr. Lavi… do any of those words or names sound familiar to you?"

With his face turned toward his mostly empty plate, Lavi thought about it. Walker. Allen Walker. And Akuma. And the Fourteenth. But Allen Walker stuck out the most of them. But there were more people, people he had known longer, people he should have known the names and faces of, friends that would have told him to stop helping—

Friends.

"Lenalee." Lavi whispered, and knew at once that the Chinese girl smiling in the back of his brain had a name. "Allen Walker is friends with Lenalee Lee." He felt sick – nauseous – like he might fall over. Which way was up again? He couldn't see to find out. "Akuma… he exists to destroy Akuma… because they're too sad for this world." The apprentice Bookman had to let go of Tyki's hand to put it over the linen over his eyes, feeling too dizzy, feeling sick. Maybe he had been on a boat once and this was what it felt like. Maybe the harder he tried to remember, the less he would be able to stand thinking about it – he didn't know. He only knew that he felt like he might vomit and fall over at once and used his right hand to clench at the table in front of him as he lurched, his good foot wound up in the leg of his chair to stay steady. Disoriented – that was a good word for how he felt. But this time there were no new names or faces to go with the feeling.

But there were lots and lots of voices.

And a dark haired man in a yellow-white uniform with painfully honest eyes.

There was a hand, large and soothing, pressed to his face, turning it, spinning him toward the left. Someone was supposed to be there, someone he knew, but it wasn't Doug. But who was Doug? He didn't know anyone named Doug, did he?

Someone said something to him. Someone close. He couldn't follow it. He couldn't follow anything. He felt dizzy. He needed to _remember_…

_Oozuchi Kozuchi._

What did that mean?

There was something soft, and gently scented with tobacco pressed to Lavi's face, something warm. It was safe, he knew. It was something he trusted. So he stopped trying to hold on to the table and let his leg unwind, let the pull of whatever was touching him drag him down – or maybe that wasn't down – and away, in the direction of silence. He was supposed to be at dinner but this was better. It didn't matter anyway. It wasn't like Tyki's family liked him. The numbness that sucked at his awareness would be more comfortable than the mahogany, straight backed chairs.

So he let the nothingness come, and prayed to whatever god that would listen that someone he remembered would be there when he woke up.

-- -- --

Tyki paced the length of the room with his hands held tightly behind his back, worrying his lower lip with his teeth. Of course the Earl had to ask something like that. And of course Lavi would try to answer. It was so convenient. And now, despite his best efforts, Lavi lay feverish and exhausted in the room to his left, fighting with nightmares. This hadn't been the plan. This hadn't been anything _close _to the plan. And yet, as he paced, he could feel Road watching his reactions, waiting for the proper time to approach and pry out the details. He didn't want to share though, not at the moment, not until Lavi woke and made that soft, contented sound he always made when he found himself safe from the strange world he found in his dreams.

The boy jerked on the bed and Tyki turned into the room – even if it took him out of sight of Road – and approached the small, metal framed bed with light steps. The redhead didn't wake, but he stirred again, gently, with no emotion on his features.

"What are you dreaming about, Exorcist?" The Noah whispered, sinking onto the bed and reaching with his grayed fingers to stroke at Lavi's hair. It was the exact texture he expected, though warmer than it should have been. "Are you dreaming of your past? Are you remembering? Or is it something else?" His fingers brushed down the boy's cheek, down to his lips, his jaw. The lines of the boy's face were very sharp in the oil lamp light, orange and gold and shadow, sculpted from precious stone. "I don't care." Tyki heard himself whisper when his hand came to Lavi's throat. "I don't care if you remember. I just want you to wake-up the same."

The boy didn't open his eyes and smile; he tilted his face into Tyki's hand, though.

Without a thought of what he was doing or why, the Noah leaned forward and pressed his lips to Lavi's, his left had rested to the apprentice Bookman's chest. Maybe it was an urge that had a meaning. Maybe it was just an urge. Maybe, if he really paused to wonder, it was a kiss goodnight.

It didn't really matter what the kiss was, only that Lavi made that soft, gasping sound of contentment and tilted his head back just so, inviting and yet shy. The skin against his mouth was too warm, but the redhead still responded with a broken hum, while his left hand, shaking a little with remaining tiredness and perhaps a little fear, reached up to tangle in Tyki's hair. That little bit of contact was just enough to send Tyki's fingers creeping up the Exorcist's sides.

Exhaustion, it seemed, wasn't something that would stop Lavi from responding. Nor was disorientation. Tyki rocked back and then forward, just enough to change the lay of the bed, and Lavi pushed himself up and back at once, slamming the back of his head on the iron bed frame.

"Lavi!"

"Ow…shit…"

The Noah moved to check the younger man's wounds, reaching around the back of the boy's head to tug at the linen around his eyes. But the boy laughed. Lavi caught Tyki's wrists and laughed at him, soft and dark and tired.

"I'm okay just… dizzy. When you tilted the bed, I thought I was rolling off." Lavi explained, and once again reached into Tyki's hair. "'M okay…" The way he mumble it, and the way he smiled at the brush of knuckles against his cheekbones, reminded Tyki of a contented cat about to purr itself to sleep. "How come I fainted?"

"Thinking too hard, I think." Tyki said softly, leaning very close to the redhead. He wanted to be closer for some reason, like before, but that really wasn't necessary with the apprentice Bookman making wonderful knots in his hair. "You were asked if something was familiar, and when you tried to remember this happened. Of course, it most likely doesn't help that you walked here with me and then sat outside in the cool air without a jacket but—"

"Right. Lichfield." Lavi nodded. "You'll have to tell me how we did that sometime…"

Tyki felt himself smile. "All in good time."

Lavi shifted, pulling Tyki down by his hair. The Noah let it happen for some reason, until his head rested sideways against the redhead's chest, the fingers that had been in his hair trailed down the older man's face, following the curve of his nose. "I feel like my brain hurts."

"Oh?"

The boy nodded, then sighed softly. "And my forehead… are we going home?"

Tyki smiled a little, just enough to make it known in his voice. "I think it would be better if we stayed here tonight while you rest. Though, I'll likely stay in this room with you rather than take the one my brother keeps for me." No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the Noah had to wonder _why_ he was willing to make that sacrifice. But when he thought about it, staying in this small, metal bed wasn't a sacrifice at all – Lavi made a fairly good pillow. "Besides the headache are you… still alright? No… memories?"

The apprentice Bookman shook his head slowly from side to side, frowning. "More names, but that's it. Now I'm just tired." He sighed a little, sinking into the pillows. "If you need to be with them then you can go; you've got no obligation to be stuck t'me, ya know? I'll be fine if you're not too far away."

"Lavi," Tyki pushed himself up, displacing the finger that kept running down the bridge of his nose, and leaned up to kiss the boy very shortly on the lips. When he pulled away, Tyki laid a hand on Lavi's chest, feeling the slow billow of the boy's lungs – and for once he didn't even think about the fact that those lungs were keeping an Exorcist alive. "I will be close enough for you to call for me. I just need to tell the others you are alright." He repeated the kiss, a little longer this time, and broke away chuckling at the redhead's enthusiasm. Really, the apprentice Bookman would likely be just as desperate for sex on his deathbed as he was every other day of his life.

"Tyki."

"Hm?"

Lavi's mouth lifted in a strange, crooked smile. "Goodnight kiss?"

"You're incorrigible."

-- -- --

Why was Tyki so tender with that redheaded beast? Why was he… _kissing_ the Exorcist goodnight?! Who cared if he didn't remember? She could make him remember. If she had half a chance, she could make him remember _everything_. Who he was, who he wasn't, who he had lied to, who he had never been. But they wouldn't let her. She had to play nice and smile and be pleasant – even if he had tried to burn her alive, stabbed her in her heart, hugged her Allen right in front of her…

The apprentice Bookman had suffered the momentary loss of his heart once at her hands; she could do it again. Especially now. If he didn't remember who he was, she could break him like anyone else – it didn't matter if he didn't remember that he wasn't supposed to care.

Road narrowed her eyes at the hand her uncle pressed to Lavi's face, to the pained expression the redhead wore. She wanted to rip him to bits, literally and figuratively. How many times could she kill him before he believed it? She didn't know. But each time would be new and exciting, and he would always make that face – that expression – like he knew it was over but he still loved the fact that he had lived.

"If I'm asleep before you get back, wake me up so I don't stick my elbows in your ribs or somethin'." Lavi's voice, tight with a laugh that wasn't voiced, caught in her ears like flies, irritating and familiar. He made her so angry – if only because he seemed so… nice and broken now.

"You're so trusting…"

"I don't have a reason not to," Lavi laughed. "I trust you, and your relatives haven't done anything bad to me that I remember, so…"

"Should I stay with you then, until you fall asleep?" Tyki's voice was demure, and she was willing to bet that the fingers he used to brush at the redhead's forehead were as gentle as a breath of wind. He was losing his mind to be acting like that – he was Pleasure, he was supposed to be cruel.

Lavi made a soft negative and relaxed further, all of his barriers down, all of his defenses turned off. He was really going to sleep there. He was really going to dream in this house, her house, and she was going to have no reason at all to disturb him but for things that lay in the past, things that Tyki no longer minded. She looked down at her pastel lavender dress for a moment, then at her shoes, before she ran a hand through her dark hair and looked up again, trying to think of a solution.

Her uncle was kissing the Exorcist on the brow.

"Goodnight, Lavi."

"Goodnight, Tyki."

It was so sweet that she wanted nothing more than to stab the Exorcist lying on that bed.

Instead, she turned away, walking on silent feet away from her uncle and the apprentice Bookman and the whole of the house. It didn't matter where she went – they could find her if they needed her, no matter where she opened a door to. With just the thought, a heart-shaped doorway appeared in front of her, just a few steps away, and opened with nothing but a wave of her hand, showing nothing but inky darkness on the other side.

"Where are you going, young lady?" It was one voice she didn't want to hear, not when she had so much thinking to do. Maybe she'd just go to her room for a while, and wonder about what Lavi had said about Allen Walker.

She turned on heel, grinning up at her uncle with a smile that he would see through. "Just out. I want to get some dessert." He was younger than her – he wouldn't know what she was thinking even if he knew that was a lie.

Tyki matched her expression. His eyes, though, remained his human shade of chocolate, even if his skin was always somewhat more toward gray even at his brightest. Olive, he called it – but there really was no flesh tone that matched him. It looked fine in most lighting but bright sunlight, which made him look sick or burnt somehow. "It's far too late for me to just _let_ my darling little niece wander out a door into the night, don't you think?" He made the same face she was used to – that same smile that he always had for her, different than Sheryl's, but wide and genuine all the same. He was still Tyki, even when he was doing those strange things… even when he was masquerading like one of _them_.

Sometimes, though, he seemed to do it too well.

"I'll be fine, Tyki." She smiled up at him, brightly. "You know I can take care of myself."

"Road," he had that tone like he was about to say something annoyingly smart despite his dislike for learning. "I know you don't like him, but he doesn't remember hurting you. He doesn't remember what I did to Allen Walker, either," Tyki sighed. "I know what you want to do, but… will you let me keep him? You know that if you caught Allen Walker, I wouldn't tear out his heart until you said I could." There was a ghost of something darker in his expression now, just enough to show that _he_ was still there, under all of that masquerading and tenderness.

She tiptoed forward, the door dissolving behind her, and threw her arms around his waist in a hug that made her feel much better about the situation. Her father had a life who was human, her uncle could have a boy who was an Exorcist as long as things remained as they were. For Tyki's happiness – for her family's wellbeing – she could handle that.

"We should take him on a picnic some time!" She squeezed a little more tightly than was absolutely necessary and the silky green fabric of Tyki's coat hissed in her right ear. He didn't groan though, not like he did when she had disturbed one of his scars. "Because he's one of yours, I'll be okay with it. If you'd like… we can all play a real game sometime. Like dress-up. Or tea party."

Tyki's smile never wavered. "I think… a picnic sounds like the best idea out of those. And even then… his leg needs to heal."

That was right. Humans were so fun and breakable. Allen Walker aside.

She nodded. "Daddy will let him stay until he can go back with you. Which reminds me, how are things there? You lost a handful of Akuma, but the others?"

"The others…" His smile, and his eyes, changed for only a moment, "I have the perfect plan for them."

-- -- --

**And… now I must really go to bed. Camping, writing, work… Ima passout faster than Lavi at this rate! ^^ Thanks for reading and reviewing!**


	11. Connect the Space Between

**Chapter is a hair longer than it was supposed to be. And some stuff happened I wasn't counting on. And it took longer than I wanted. And I didn't get done with TWTS. But… meh. I guess you can't have it all. I work ten days in a row between this and next week, so don't expect me to crap out another chapter just yet. ^^;**

**Comp crashes make reviews vanish. I got to the ones I could find in my inbox still. Sorry about that. D:**

**Warnings: Yaoi. Sex. Hints of pairings besides Lucky. A little violence? Slight OOC on Allen's part? Sorta?**

**Disclaimer: I own not D. Gray – Man. If own I did, Allen a serious brat would be.**

**-- -- --**

Chapter Eleven: Connect the Space Between

Allen had managed to wrench a few things out of Kanda, but the processes of getting the older man to talk reminded him a lot of pulling teeth. If everything that Kanda told him over dinner was true, the British boy could only guess, but most of it seemed true enough, from the story of how he and Lavi had begun to talk to how Kanda had come to realize that he might actually miss the idiot. It was all rather endearing. The only thing that didn't quite mix was the liar's tick in the swordsman's right eyebrow. Allen knew what it was. Too many games of poker had honed his eyes so sharp he could call any bluff.

But he didn't call Kanda's. That was the idea of trust.

Instead, when dinner had finished and the two of them returned to the room, he watched the Japanese boy go about his nightly routine with just a bit of interest and, when he saw that they were both completely prepared, placed himself between the unarmed swordsman and his bed. It had been a whim that first time – an act that hurt more than it should have, but he had _needed_ to do it. Now, if Kanda turned him down, he would mope off into his own bed and pout despite his age, just because that was irritating and irritating things brought the swordsman to action.

Kanda cocked an eyebrow at him, rolled his eyes, sighed, and finally _smirked_. "I'm not sleeping next to you no matter how afraid you are of the dark."

Allen narrowed his eyes and held out his arms, presenting the cleanest opening to his chest since the moment he had thrown himself at the swordsman.

"Fuck you."

"Just one!" Allen took a step forward, and found it only half-amusing that Kanda took a matching step back. "I swear, I won't bother you until the next time we have to share a—" The hand that extended in his direction didn't claw his face like he thought it might have, nor did it gather his shirt and throw him away. Instead, it tangled in the back of his hair and yanked him forward until his chest touched Kanda's and his back bent in the direction of the force pulling on his hair. A rush of warmth and panic filled his chest before he froze, unable to bring his arms up or demand a verbal response.

Kanda's face was very close, his dark eyes nearly the only thing Allen could see. It shouldn't have been that frightening. "You're so caught up in trying to make me _share_ my feelings with you, but you haven't thought one bit about what that might mean talking about, have you?" Kanda's voice was a very dangerous whisper, cold and breathy, the exact opposite of his body so close to Allen's. "You think Lavi hugs me, runs, and I chase him so I can gut him? You think that's it? It's that simple for me to be close to people and that's as far as it goes?" He almost laughed to himself, but the sound came out like a scoff instead.

"Kanda—"

"Che. There's a lot more, Bean Sprout. Care for an example?"

_No,_ Allen thought without saying it. _Because you don't really trust me_.

Their faces touched.

That was the only way he could describe it, because Kanda did not kiss people, he did not kiss people, and he would not kiss _Kanda_ if he did. Allen could feel that the swordsman's lips were smooth and soft despite the cold, that he parted them to press at the British boy's mouth with his tongue, that the whole ordeal was wet and would have been better if he had any idea what he was doing. It wasn't unpleasant, but it _was _Kanda. The guy didn't do anything with a lover's touch.

When the contact broke, Allen found himself just as speechless as he had been the moment before it started.

"Think about _that_ the next time you want me to tell you why I'm _missing_ him."

-- -- --

Lavi stayed just one night in the Kamelot house, but it was a night he would never forget as long as he lived. He slept wound in Tyki's arms, safe and sound, and dreamed of hammers and lightning, fire and brimstone, blood and machinery. But there was nothing to see. There was no color or light, no shapes or faces. There was scent and sound and feeling, but not once did he _see_ the things he dreamed of. When he woke, clinging to Tyki for fear that the rush of acrid smelling bullets falling from his nightmare sky would strike him and send him tumbling into the sea bellow, it occurred to him that he hadn't seen anything at all. Not even the stars.

It frightened him more than anything he had ever known.

When Tyki climbed out of bed a few hours after the end of the dream, Lavi went with him, taking all of that fear of that sightless dream and shoving it into the very back of his mind. He didn't tell anyone about it, not even the man who half-carried him down to breakfast, but the memory lingered until, in a flurry of housecoat, Road greeted him with a hug that nearly crushed very bone in his ribcage.

She seemed genuinely glad to see him. He let that brighten his mood a little, and stood rather crookedly on his left foot while he touched her hair and traced her features, trying to build a face to go with the extremely excited quality of her voice.

She had large eyes and a tall forehead, a wide mouth, a short, slightly-upturned nose. Maybe she was a very short, very childish thirteen-year-old. It was hard to tell.

"We're having eggs Benedict," Road told him, taking the hand he wasn't using to hold himself steady. "And jam on toast. I bet Uncle Tyki has been feeding you stale bread and day old coffee grounds, so this will be a nice change, hm?"

Lavi couldn't help but smile at her. The change in her attitude, however sudden, was a welcome one. If she would welcome him, maybe the others would follow. "I taught him how to fry eggs, actually, though he still overcooks them." He tilted his head in Tyki's direction, grinning a little lopsidedly, and allowed Road to pull him a step forward. "Not that I mind."

Road hummed. "Uncle Lavi can cook then?"

Tyki choked on air.

This time, Lavi knew exactly why Tyki's lungs had decided to rebel. It made the boy grin. The gentle press of the Portuguese man's hand in his, paired with the memories of what had happened in the bathtub before they came, made it that much better. Maybe it wasn't _love_ yet, but it was _like_, for sure. And it was just too cute for the older man not to know how to handle someone else taking notice.

"What's the matter, Darling? Swallowed your tongue?"

"Lavi—"

Road cut him off with a laugh, tugging at Lavi's hand. "Breakfast! Blushing can wait!"

-- -- --

Allen didn't sleep very much that night, too busy running ideas around in his head. When he did sleep, he dreamt of Kanda in ways he had never imagined, and woke aching and blushing and hating himself. It had been a stupid kiss meant to show how much he _didn't_ know. It had been an example of all the things he could never know unless he was told. Did Kanda kiss Lavi? Allen didn't know. And he wouldn't. Not unless Kanda _talked_.

The thought made Allen a little uncomfortable. And that discomfort had nothing to do with his awkward dreams and strange thoughts.

Even after an icy cold shower and a lot of avoiding looking at Kanda, those thoughts followed the white-haired teen down stairs to breakfast and held tight to stomach while he ate. Because no matter how mean Kanda was, that was only Allen's second kiss. And it hadn't been that awful, not when he thought about—but he would not think about it. He was not Cross. And Kanda had not meant it in any way, shape, or form. Not for Allen.

"Che." Kanda intoned from across the table, finishing his bowl of… whatever he ate when soba wasn't available. "Did you eat too much at dinner, brat?"

"No…" Allen answered softly, noting that he hadn't yet made it through his third plate. Timcampy was munching along, however, happy as could be. "It's just hard to eat when I'm thinking about what you did last night."

Kanda's spoon went down again before it came up toward his mouth – and his lips – and Allen had to look away from it. "The idiot sprout doesn't have an iron cast stomach after all?" There might have been an emphatic roll of the swordsman's eyes.

The British boy shook his head. "It's not like that. I just…" He was blushing, he could _feel _it. What would Lou Fa do if she saw him now, turning pink over a guy? Not that it mattered. She tried much too hard anyway. Allen began to push his fork into his eggs in the effort to bring them toward his gullet. "It was nice, that's all. Wet, but nice."

"Unless you want to be eating the rest of your meal through of your Innocence, you need to explain what the fuck you are talking about."

Allen looked up then, at Kanda's dark eyes and his long hair, at the harsh angles and the determined line of those dark, elegant eyebrows. He wasn't Cross, no, but he couldn't deny that he wanted to lean up and try that face brushing thing again, that the thought didn't twist his gut and choke him. It didn't matter if Lavi had done that to Kanda, nor did it matter that Kanda was looking at him with eyes as cold and icy as glaciers. The soft firelight and the color of the swordsman's skin… those things carried so much more weight, now.

"You kissed me, Kanda," Allen said slowly and evenly. "You wanted me to see that there are things I don't know about you that I might be uncomfortable with, and even though that's thoughtful, I think I really rather liked—"

Kanda's spoon went clattering against his bowl, abandoned. "If you finish that sentence, I will—"

"How it felt. And now… when I look at you…"

"No wonder you were moaning…" Kanda did something awkward with his shoulders, shrinking into himself. His expression, usually so very angry and cold, shriveled into something like disgust. Even so, he looked just as elegant as he had a moment ago. Maybe even more so, because the line between his eyebrows had smoothed.

Allen felt his face drop. "Moaning?"

"In your sleep, Bean Sprout." Kanda shuddered. "Either I was dying and you were wounded, or you were dreaming that I was—"

"Don't flatter yourself." Allen lied in a growl, stabbing a pieces of sausage with his already egg covered fork. They were going to be cold by the time he got them to his mouth, he was sure. "Because you did that, I'm thinking about it now, I _did not_ dream about you. Egotist. That's just…" The white-haired teen put the fork in his hash browns rather violently. "Ew. And every time I look at you…"

"Then _don't_ look at me. Or talk about it. It never happened."

"Well, fine by me."

The table fell into awkward silence.

Allen tried to eat his cold meal with his sweaty fork while Kanda tried not to look at him. For the remainder of the British boy's plate, they sat in silence, not looking at each other. But Allen didn't like silence. He didn't like it at all. He wanted to fill up the space between them with something besides awkwardness and glares, if he could help it. But there wasn't really a way to do that that he could think of. Not without making it painfully obvious that he was trying. There was only one thing he could think of, and it was bound to get him killed in only a moment.

"Kanda," Allen didn't look up from his plate. Instead, he reached for his orange juice and drained the cup. "I know that you don't like me, and that's fine. I'll stop trying to get you talk if you want me to." He looked up then and tried to ignore the fact that Kanda was _pretty_ when he was surprised, even if he look more like a turtle than he did like a woman. "Just… I'm here, okay? Even if the things you have to say are as shocking at the kiss, alright?"

For a moment, Kanda just stared at him.

The British boy pushed himself up and leaned enough to press his lips to the swordsman's.

It was sweet and short, nothing like the one from the night before. He didn't try to involve his tongue at all, or coax Kanda into responding, he just pressed close and the pulled away, watching Kanda's eyes linger on his lips for a half a moment.

The swordsman's confusion only lasted a moment and then he was glaring daggers again, hiding whatever other emotion had flickered behind his dark eyes. "I get it, brat. Stop repeating yourself all the Goddamn time!" He pushed himself up rather violently and his chair shrieked against the floor. "I'm done. Let's get to the hospital already."

Allen couldn't help but smile a little. "Alright, Kanda."

-- -- --

Breakfast was as uneventful as a meal could be. Lulu left early, Trisha felt ill, and the Earl was called away to meet a broker in northern France. Thus the four of them, Sheryl, Road, Lavi, and himself, had eggs and muffins and talked about the weather and other pleasant things, as simple and human as any other family for seven towns.

Just the thought of it made Tyki's blood boil.

It was true that some violence was enough for him. Killing the boy in the alleyway had been more than enough to sate him, but what he had done to the Asian fellow with the sword was insufficient. He wanted more. He needed more. There were still seven akuma at his disposal – a level four, two threes, two twos, and two ones, and he knew _exactly_ what he wanted to do with at least two of them. The others… if the Exorcists showed their faces in Carrickmines so quickly, he would be shocked. They were still twenty kilometers off the mark, the last he had checked, and with any luck they would remain so.

Knowing Allen Walker, however…

Tyki didn't finish his food. He was too busy thinking of blood and death and Lavi, and how the three of them couldn't have been any more connected than they were.

It was dumb luck that the boy fell asleep on the sofa while he and his niece discussed the darker aspects of family life. The Exorcist was still worn-out from his dreams, his thoughts, and walking, and he shivered in the spring chill, but didn't wake even when Tyki wrapped him in a coat and hefted him from his resting place. It was a blessing. As large as Lavi was, Tyki hardly found him to be a burden at all. And they would arrive home walking through the Ark that way faster than they would with Lavi limping.

By noon, the Noah brought the redhead back to the little house in Ireland, still swathed in his coat, making little sleepy sounds. It was a moment of pure, unrestrained laziness that made Tyki curl up beside him and wrap an arm around the boy's waist. Despite his wish for violence and his plans for his remaining henchmen, he wanted – for the moment – to lay himself down and simply listen to slow, gentle rhythm of Lavi's breathing.

Outside, it began to rain.

Tyki didn't get up to draw the curtains closed or kindle a fire. He held his coat and the Exorcist wrapped in it close enough to feel Lavi's heat. That would be enough.

"_Are we home?"_ The question was little more than a cracked breath of air against the bedding, because Lavi did not turn to look at him.

"Yes. We're home."

Lavi nodded, mussing his hair, and gathered the material of the Noah's coat more firmly around his shoulders. He looked prepared to sleep again, but at the same time he didn't. His face, and the band of linen that blocked out his eyes, didn't relax the way it usually did – indeed, the apprentice Bookman fought to roll over after a moment. When he had himself facing Tyki, he reached out and touched the older man with lingering fingers, gathering the material of his shirt.

"Good."

Resisting the urge to do something violent was simple for Tyki, but it never crossed his mind to stop himself from kissing the redhead in his arms. He simply did it without thinking, deep and hard, all of Road's suggestive phrases and all of Sheryl's suggestive looks pushed out of his mind. What did Love and Dreams care what Pleasure did? Love and Pleasure were brothers, true, but it was none of Sheryl's business if Tyki wanted Lavi and not someone else at the moment.

The apprentice Bookman began to pick at the button's of Tyki's shirt, completely indifferent to the fact that he was still wearing a coat himself. Tyki let him.

"You know, it doesn't take a blind man to see that you're not thinking about what we're about to do, but…" Lavi mumbled, and pulled Tyki's shirt from his trousers. "After dinner and breakfast and nightmares, I just want…"

'_I just want…'_ The words made a little sense to Tyki.

He slipped a hand beneath the fabric of the jacket Lavi wore and rolled until his weight pressed the boy into the maroon duvet and the mattress. The wooden bed frame groaned a little, but neither of them seemed to mind. It was a natural response, echoed softly on Lavi's lips. The older man gathered the fabric of Lavi's borrowed white button-up before he sank down take the boy in another kiss, the same as before, demanding, slow. What would the others do if they saw the passion behind that? He wasn't Passion. He was Pleasure. He did things with lazy determination in a way that he would find personally satisfying.

This didn't add up.

Every sound Lavi made, every touch of his fingers on scared skin, every beat of his heart – Tyki wanted to make the younger man _feel_. It wasn't a self satisfying thought. He wanted, somehow, to make the redhead beneath him suffer as much pleasure as he could.

And Tyki wanted to hurt something while he did it.

His hand pulled the shirt upward before flattening on Lavi's chest. The boy withdrew a bit, breathing deeply while his fingers followed the ridges of Tyki's ribcage and parted the curtain of the Noah's shirt to either side. Without pause, Tyki shrugged off the garment, letting the rumpled white fabric gather around his elbows before he dropped it behind him indifferently.

"I'm wearing too much."

Tyki smiled at the words, and sat back a bit, putting a knee between Lavi's and removing a bit of his weight. "Take something off. I'd rather not accidentally pull out your liver aiming for your shirt."

Lavi lurched backward, fighting with the thick wool of the Portuguese man's coat. He might have been smiling or grimacing by the look on his face, crooked, showing his teeth. The strangled laugh that opened his mouth a little wider marked it as the former, but the rouge to his cheeks could have gone either way. "Your God given powers get faulty when it most matters? That must be a problem sometimes." He pulled his arms free before returning his hands to the surface of Tyki's chest. "But… right now…"

"You would rather be close quickly than sensual?"

"No, I just wanna have you. Because even if I don't really like the family, I like you."

"I'm flattered." Tyki chuckled, and pressed his mouth to the curve of Lavi's throat for only a moment before he mumbled against it, softly. "The family? What's with the articulate?"

"It's an article. And it's not like I have a family. So yours is _the_ family."

Tyki nodded a little against Lavi's skin. "I see." Really he didn't, but it didn't seem important. The golden flesh against his lips, however, did. His kisses, which were short and warm, increased in speed with every inch that he covered, moving down the line of the boy's neck to his collarbone, which he breathed against for a moment indecisively. One of the hands on his chest came to his right nipple and rubbed it experimentally, goading him on.

Lavi made a weak sort of sound the moment teeth touched his skin.

Tyki knew that he would leave a bruise. Tyki also knew that Lavi wouldn't care even if he could see it.

It only took a few seconds for the mark to be made, then he slid downward, over the bunched fabric of the shirt Lavi wore, until he could lay his lips on the trembling flesh of the boy's chest. The pink scars were fading toward white on Lavi's ribcage, hardly of note, and the Noah closed his eyes to them. It didn't matter what blemishes there were on Lavi's skin when he had made them. They might all have been claims like the one on the redhead's collarbone. Claims that, in the room's unlit state, stood out in stark comparison to the purpling bruise by the line of Lavi's throat.

Tyki couldn't see any of it with his eyes closed. He could only follow the curve of Lavi's body with his mouth. He laid open kisses down the right side of the boy's ribcage, then painted a line to his navel, dragging his tongue in slow lines as he descended. In the end, it was an awkward position to be in, what with how the bed ended not too far away, but he managed rather well. The hand that pushed him lower was enough for him to be sure of that.

Lavi's fingers curved gently in the Noah's hair, a distinct contrast to the shake in his voice when he spoke. "Will you let me?"

The Noah looked up at the flushed pink of Lavi's cheeks and the soft, pouting quality to the boy's mouth. Yes, he would let him. Tyki would let him live, let him speak, let him walk and hear and see if he could, if only Lavi would touch the sides of his face with those trembling fingers.

"Can you? Even though you can't see?"

"Yes." Lavi nodded, and his fingers clamped a little in Tyki's hair before trailing to the shells of his ears. "Even if you don't let me finish and instead we… you know, I'd still get to taste you. And I'd know…" A drastic blush took his face, innocent in a way that Tyki couldn't even think to describe. "Your dimensions better…"

With a soft laugh, the Noah licked and kissed his way back to the boy's face, which he smiled at regardless of the cloth that still blocked Lavi's eyes. He touched the redhead's inner thigh and watched Lavi arch at the touch, a narrow breath sucked between his teeth. "Something tells me that if I let you, this whole day will be devoted to surviving the rain on body heat alone."

Lavi shivered. The hand on his thigh moved a little, starting a slow, stroking rhythm. "You can talk me out of it… but we might still spend the whole day surviving the rain…"

Tyki could not resist the little smirk that Lavi offered him and moved forward, kissing and pulling at the shirt Lavi still wore in an effort to be rid of it. Under his fingers, unhindered by the hands the redhead tangled in the Portuguese man's hair, the fabric was first parted and then cast aside indifferently, landing on the floor in a rumpled heap. Warm arms wound around Tyki's neck and pulled him down again the moment he meant to withdraw from the kiss, and started another, deeper than the last. His right hand continued to move against Lavi's left thigh all the while.

And under his hand, Lavi's hips lifted in invitation.

"Talked out of it." The boy gasped against Tyki's mouth. "Very persuaded."

Tyki smiled into the next brush of lips. He pushed below the line of Lavi's pants to continue the rhythm he had establish against the heated skin he found there, caressing with the tips of his fingers. Lavi's arms tightened again, and Tyki cupped the boy intimately in response, squeezing with gentle fingers.

That heated flesh, Lavi's willingness – it was almost enough to keep him from thinking of boy-whores and Akuma. Almost.

"Lavi," it was a bit hard to form the name when the apprentice Bookman was reaching for his pants. "As much as I understand wanting, I don't understand why you want… me after everything you've remembered. You must know that those people, the names and faces, I have hurt them. And you _will_ remember eventually, and when that happens—"

"You said I was neutral before Nyoibo." Lavi cut him off in a voice that was a bit like a growl. "So we can just see what happens when the time comes, alright? Right now, I want you. Can't that be enough?"

Tyki let his hands wander to the redhead's hips and pull them into him, bending the apprentice Bookman away from the mattress with the motion. It wasn't as good as it would be with skin, but the contact drove the boy's knees into the Noah's ribcage and hitched the breath in Tyki's throat. It would be enough. Living moment to moment had always had a distinct flavor to it that he enjoyed, and this could be just another of those moments, even if he wanted it to last forever. Now, with Lavi rocking so the bandage around his face was bound to fall away, there was no time at all to wonder.

"Yes," Tyki hissed, bending his neck to align his mouth with Lavi's ear. "It _is_ enough."

"Then fuck me so that I won't give a damn who you are."

The Noah of Pleasure felt himself smile.

With a hand that went through the nightstand with little more than a thought, Tyki reached out for the jar of petroleum jelly he had since invested in since corrupting the only bottle of olive oil in the house. He found it rather easily and drew it through the wood, then placed it on the bed beside him.

"Pants," he said simply.

Lavi nodded. "Help so I don't screw up my ankle?"

Tyki took a gentle hold of the fabric around Lavi's waist and pulled it down the boy's body, over his narrow hips with little more than a thought about the button. Normally it was harder than that in these situations, but now…

The Noah continued to try and push away the offending garment while he pressed his mouth into the newly exposed skin, taking care to watch where he touched most strongly. "Lift," he growled against the very lowest part of Lavi stomach, and dragged the material away in the split second that Lavi followed his instruction. From there the work was a bit more delicate – the right pant leg tried to catch on the thick parts of Lavi's wood-and-gauze cast – and Tyki had to slow, dragging the fabric back with tender fingers.

He used it as an excuse to breathe warm air against Lavi's right thigh.

"Take yours off, too." Lavi commanded softly, fumbling to catch Tyki and pull him up the moment his pants were discarded. "And just so you know, when my ankle is better, we're totally doing this with you taking my role. Curiosity, you understand?"

Tyki laughed softly and he pushed himself up again, leaning over the Exorcist while he worked at his own pants. "Well, by the sound of things, you've done it that way before and don't remember. And I don't have much choice in the matter." He picked up the container of petroleum with his left hand and pressed his right to Lavi's stomach; a hand came to rest on his chest while another stayed curved softly behind his neck, keeping him close. From that angle, with Lavi's knees lifted around his hips, he could see every crinkle in the falling linen around the redhead's eyes.

"I know how it works," Lavi mumbled, blushing. "But I don't know what it feels like. It's like… trees. I know how they are, but—_oh…_" The apprentice Bookman tensed at touch on his stomach sliding lower. "I don't remember… what bark… feels like…"

"Would you like me to do what I did before? With your hand?" The Noah whispered, fingering the container of lubricant and ignoring the throbbing in his gut. He let his eyes wander down the line of Lavi's neck to his shoulders to his chest and up again, frowning softly. They were healthier than they had been when the boy had first recovered from his fall, though they lacked the muscle tone he might have expected on an Exorcist. Tyki could watch the tendons dance under Lavi's skin when Lavi shook his head.

"I wanna touch you this time. Just warn me."

Tyki let his right hand come up from the boy's flesh and opened the jar, never letting his eyes waver from the pouting turn of Lavi's lips. "Have I told you that you might be the strangest person I've ever met?"

Lavi shrugged a little, smilingly. "Maybe. Why?"

"Because," Tyki dipped his fingers into the jar and coated them before putting it on the nightstand, "I believe it is something that you should know." He moved his hand between them and bent close once more, catching the boy's lip in his teeth for a brief moment before he spoke. "Now, Lavi…"

The redhead hummed a response. The hand he had on Tyki's neck pulled softly downward.

With slow, gentle strokes, and thoughtful multitasking, the Noah moved his fingers in a teasing circle the same as he pressed his mouth to Lavi's. It didn't surprise him that the boy gasped and arched into him, nor did it shock him when fingernails grazed his back almost painfully, a word of desire burning on Lavi's lips.

He wanted it, too.

At the first press of a finger inside of him, Lavi hissed and tilted his head back, a motion that finally loosened the bandage on his face to the point that it slithered down and gathered by his throat. Not that it mattered, the boy's eyes were squeezed shut with determined force. "I wish… God, I wish…"

Tyki felt his face take on a slightly pained expression. He knew what Lavi wanted. "I'm sorry." His finger pressed farther inward and he leaned closer, speaking to the turn of the redhead's jaw. "But you and I are—"

Lavi arched into the Noah, bending in a way that stole the breath right from the older man's lungs. "I don't blame you. I just want to _see._"

"Lavi," Tyki pressed a second fingertip beside the first, desire and heat and emotion too powerful for him to resist for a moment. Part of him wanted to apologize again, take the time to truly pleasure the body beneath him – the rest… "When was the last time you opened your eyes?"

"A day or two ago." The redhead answered softly. "Why?"

Tyki looked from one eyelid to the other, knowing, dreading, thinking that it might be a mistake to call them open. But he had to. Lavi wanted to see him and Tyki couldn't say that he didn't want to be seen. And if the boy remembered, if the apprentice Bookman recanted every nice thing he had said and every tender touch, perhaps they could both end the night bloodied and satisfied. "Keep them that way if you don't think you will see."

"Ty—" At the accidental shift of the Portuguese man's hand, Lavi choked on the name and his eyelids, fluttering with the dark red of his eyelashes, opened, his mouth formed into a gasping circle. For a split second his emerald-and-jade eyes turned at nothing – they only opened and then shut again while his hips lifted into Tyki's hand – and then they were blinking at the ceiling, watering slightly. The pupils matched, Tyki noted, even if the irises were still different.

Out of worry the Noah slowed the movement of his fingers, letting them come together in case the redhead called a halt to their progress. If something hurt, or if something went wrong…

Slowly, Lavi tilted his head down and let his gaze fall to the man between his knees.

His eyes widened. His hips paused.

"Tyki!?"

Tyki blinked, eyebrows furrowed. "I'm sorry?"

Lavi shook his head, shaking, blushing, unsteady and uncertain. He closed his eyes again for a moment before he opened them, focused – truly _focused_ – on Tyki's lips. "T-Tyki Mikk?" His voice was small. His face was a shade of red that clashed horribly with his hair and increased the contrast between his slightly mismatched eyes.

The Noah worried for a fraction of a second that his face was enough to bring everything back. He pushed the idea aside, frowning softly. "What is it, Lavi?"

"Holy fuck." The redhead shifted, which in turn moved Tyki's hand, and his eyes shot from the Portuguese man's face to arm and back again. The boy was terribly flustered, a state that was made more obvious by the color still rising in his face and neck. Tyki had never known anyone with the ability to blush with their whole body, but he thought Lavi might have done it in that single moment. "You're so… you're… and your _nose…_"

Tyki felt his face starting to fall.

"I can _see_ you. And God, you're so… can you – I mean, I'd really like to just _look_ at you but I'm… and you're… _hand…_" Lavi looked so helpless with his fingers fumbling with Tyki's hair and his eyes darting from one place on Tyki's body to another, so very _lost _with what to do with himself. The Exorcist had never seemed innocent or pure, not since his first words of innuendo, but now he might have been a blushing virgin without the slightest clue what he was doing.

"Breathe, Lavi. We've done this before. Are you…" The Noah struggled with a way to word what he meant to say for a moment, and finally moved his fingers wider. "Do you remember anything?"

The apprentice Bookman shook his head without taking his eyes from Tyki's face. "No. Nothing. Not important. You… _oh,_ it'll be _you_…" Lavi tilted his hips and tightened his hold on the back of Tyki's neck. "Would you move your Goddamn hand before I have to do this alone?"

"Ah, I had thought for a moment that you had forgotten what we were about, Lavi." Tyki lied smoothly. His fingers, still slick and buried almost as far as he could press them, began to move again, scissoring with gentle motions.

"You know what, forget the hand, I'm prepared enough. I know how to relax."

"Lavi…"

"I'll lube you myself if I have to!"

Tyki blinked for a moment before removing his right hand from its place and taking the jar once more in his left, glad that he had left it open. He scooped a liberal amount into his hand and then spread the cool gel down the aching length of his erection, moaning softly at the temperature, at the contact on his neglected flesh. It didn't surprise him in the slightest when Lavi's hand joined his, nor did it seem to surprise Lavi when Tyki let out a second breath, slow and warm. There was fire in his gut and those fingers, and the eyes that drank the Noah in with every passing second, drew that fire outward, filling his chest and his hands and his loins. With a sound that might have been a growl and a hand that was slightly less than gentle in Lavi's hair, he leaned to take the redhead in a kiss that made the fingers wrapped around his length squeeze slightly.

His tongue touched Lavi's. The hand against him slid to his hip and Lavi bucked into him, a startled, pleading word in his throat.

The Noah pulled the boy up by the hips and pressed himself down and forward, all too aware of the hand sticking in his hair and the mouth sharing his air, the legs that wrapped around him, the groan that escaped him. If there was one thing he thought of this Exorcist at the moment, it was that he might lose himself in indulgences if they continued as they were. If Lavi continued to open himself up and pull Tyki in, drowning him in sensations.

He hoped that he knew the boy's body well enough to ease them together without much of an issue. He prayed that Lavi still had his eyes open, regardless of how close they had become.

The tightness of Lavi's body, coupled with his hands on the Portuguese man's skin, were enough encouragement and reassurance for Tyki to move slowly and consistently. He tilted until he was sheathed within the body beneath him, his sweat-slicked chest pressed to Lavi's, and then waited. The puff of air on his shoulder was enough to tell him that even if the apprentice Bookman wasn't saying so, there needed to be a moment of adjustment.

"Tyki?"

The older man shifted until he could look down at Lavi, and blinked at the mismatched eyes that looked up at him. "Lavi?"

Lavi looked first at the Noah's face and then his chest, and his hands moved to play along the scars that were still there for Lavi to _see_. Tyki didn't respond to the touch. He waited.

"You're so… God, don't take this the wrong way, but I had no idea you were _this_ good looking. My mental image was so off…" Lavi shook his head, once again not letting his gaze leave the man above him. "I just wanted to tell you that I am by no means disappointed. Now please, move before I make you."

Tyki grinned a little before he complied, and touched the side of Lavi's face with his dry hand. "I trust you feel fine then?"

Lavi smirked at him, two-eyed and suavely. "A little sexually frustrated."

That was close enough.

The Noah eased his hips back and then forward, only to be met by a jerk of Lavi's pelvis that was both wonderful and frightening at once. It quickened his idea on rhythm rather suddenly and he threw himself into the next motion. One of Lavi's hands moved to fist in his hair again, cleaner than the one previous.

"More," Lavi whispered, and dragged himself up to take Tyki's right ear into his mouth and gently nibble it, delicate and sweetly painful with every tender brush of his teeth. "I don't know about you…I could go faster…"

Tyki chuckled darkly and brought his hips forward slightly faster, slightly harder, relishing the little tremor the motion caused in Lavi's frame and how it echoed up his own spine. The slick muscle wrapped around him and the quick panting of breath on his neck were enough make him jerk a little sooner than he had meant to, fire in his gut and his chest. Lavi was terribly close to him. Lavi was looking at him, feeling him, moving to meet him. Tyki couldn't imagine anything more intimate than the touch of fingertips on his scarred back and the thought did not frighten him. He wanted it. He wanted, somehow, to forget the bloodlust in the well of desire he found in the redheaded Exorcist's body and indulge the pit of yearning gathered in his abdomen.

Lavi's tongue caught the side of Tyki's throat and the Noah shivered, gasping at the sensation. The heat had spread to his arms and face, warming him to the point he thought he might burst into flame if not for the cool air around him. And, somehow, Lavi felt hotter. The apprentice Bookman might have been filled with something liquid and molten, like magma burning just under his skin.

They did not take note of Lavi's ankle this time, but the boy did not complain about it. He seemed far too busy bucking into Tyki's hips and whispering words in myriad languages, too distracted to find the ones that might have encouraged the Noah.

When Tyki heard himself ask permission increase their tempo in Portuguese, he almost laughed. When Lavi answered in the affirmative in the same language, he almost stopped. They did not fall away, however. Tyki fisted one hand against the mattress while the other helped Lavi's hips rise to meet him, steady and hard, fast and deep. There were fingers on his chest and on his back and Lavi's mouth gasping against his jaw – they all sent tendrils of pleasure spiraling up and down Tyki's spine. He held tighter. As close as they were, as far as he had buried himself inside of the Exorcist, he felt that there was something more that Lavi did than just touch him, something he couldn't understand.

It was in the apprentice Bookman's voice when he moaned a single syllable of encouragement.

There was little else for Tyki. There was pressure and heat and the lingering sent of flames, fingernails and the sound of his name, broken with desire. Harshly, uncaringly, he lifted Lavi's hips to improve their angle and fumbled with the open-mouthed kiss the redhead struggled to give him.

It was too late, too fast, and too _good_ – he couldn't think or multitask. He could only hold on to the trembling body against his and pray that it was as good for Lavi as it was for him.

A loud, desperate sound filled the redhead's throat and he tensed suddenly; all of the places he touched the older man went rigid. He was _tight_ and _hot_ and _Lavi_, and somehow those things felt good and _meant_ good to Tyki, even if he couldn't quite wrap his brain around why at the moment. The haze of pleasure and the knot of pressure didn't quite distract him from the hand that pressed unsteadily to his chest. It might have been those gentle fingers that pulled him over the edge and sucked him into oblivion; drawing a thin line of air from his lips the same as it released the heat from his abdomen. It didn't matter. He gasped Lavi's name and rocked until there was nothing left of the pleasure, until the body beneath him was shivering and the arm that still wound around his shoulders sank to the small of his back.

"Sorry," Lavi whispered, and the fingers on Tyki's chest trailed a delicate line to his jaw. "I was looking at you and it was too much, so I… sorry."

The Noah pulled himself gently backward and grimaced when the length of him left the warmth of Lavi's body. The moment of discomfort only lasted until the redhead touched him again, wrapping him in a tangle of arms like he had before. "It's fine, Lavi. I wouldn't have noticed if you hadn't mentioned it."

The boy nodded. Gradually, Lavi worked himself against the mattress until he was flat on his back, Tyki leaning over him on one arm, the other draped around his middle. That way, when Tyki placed his head gently on the pillow, Lavi could look up at the Noah's face and study his features, both eyes bright with something like curiosity.

"Tyki?"

The Noah smiled at his name, at the lingering uncertainty in the apprentice Bookman's features. Lavi's eyes were somewhat hooded by nature, wide and lazy, lending themselves to smiles and frowns with equal enthusiasm. They were tender now, and searching him for something he couldn't name.

Tyki met them each in turn, noting that the right was somehow _different_ than the left in something other than color – though he couldn't name it. It didn't really matter anyway. "Is something wrong?"

The boy shook his head. "No. Just using my eyes."

"See anything interesting?"

Lavi laughed like that was the most amusing idea in the world. "There's _you_ for one. I just… you're interesting?"

Tyki almost sighed. Instead, he leaned down enough to kiss the skin of Lavi's forehead and then pulled away, smiling at the redhead's slightly shocked expression. "Stay here for a moment; I'll get you a towel. Then you'll have to follow me into the living room so I can start a fire and perhaps put on some coffee, hm?"

"Fire…" Lavi whispered, and his eyes took on a slightly nostalgic glimmer. "Sounds great."

-- -- --

"What do you mean he can't stay here?!" Kanda's voice, which had gone from soft, to normal, to an irritated yell, echoed a little in the hospital hallway, reverberating from the bare white walls with all of the volume he had packed into it. The nurse he was yelling at, however, simply pushed up her perfectly round glasses and looked up at him with dark green eyes that didn't need to narrow to glare. Kanda remained nonplused. "There's a floor, isn't there? Give him a Goddamn newspaper and that's it."

"Kanda…"

The woman cleared her throat and pressed her thin lips into a thoughtful line. "Howard Link is not in a condition to be _disturbed_, Master Exorcist. I don't care if the Pope himself wants to see him – the answer is no." She didn't look down at her clipboard when she pressed it to her abundant chest. Instead, she held Kanda's eyes, irritation dancing behind her glasses the same as annoyance swam in his gaze. Allen didn't think he had ever seen a nurse so fierce before.

"And how soon _can_ we _disturb_ him?" Kanda growled a bit more lowly than he had spoken before. Perhaps his hands were shaking with anger, it was hard to tell.

"I would give him two weeks." The nurse said without a pause. "Maybe four."

"What the fuck is wrong with—"

"A hairline fracture in his skull, _Master Exorcist_. If he so much as tries to stand there's a chance his brain will hemorrhage – and I'd rather not take that chance or any other." She sighed and shook her head softly, as if she truly cared that he was hearing something he didn't want to hear at the moment. She was most likely nice under all of that… nurse-ness. "Someone will call you if his condition improves or declines."

Kanda looked like he was thinking very hard about hitting a woman.

Allen smiled as brightly as he could and placed a hand on Kanda's shoulder, much the way he had seen Marie do in the past, only with his smaller hands. It worked, however. The swordsman didn't look at him and didn't go after the woman, he just stood there, glaring like it was as natural to him as breathing. "It's alright Kanda, we'll just have to contact Headquarters and ask Komui what we should—"

"Admit him."

The nurse and Allen, both silenced by the words, looked at each other before turning to Kanda with matching frowns. "Excuse me?" The white-haired boy questioned, eyebrows lifted in curiosity.

The swordsman gave him a look that called him an idiot in almost every language of the world. "Admit him into the hospital. Give him a…" He lingered over the invisible curse word with expert ease, waiting just long enough for both Allen and the brunette to guess what he was insinuating, "room. We fought not long ago. Maybe he took a bullet."

"Kanda—"

"I will not waste a bed on this… perfectly healthy individual!"

Allen knew what was going to happen, but he really didn't see any way to avoid it, so he didn't. He stood there, in the white hall, and allowed the boney angle of Kanda's elbow to connect with his right temple. He didn't try to save himself from smacking into the far wall or sliding down it, nor did he try to defend himself from with swift kick that Kanda planted in the middle of his stomach. Allen's breakfast lurched at it and his head throbbed, but they were well placed blows, gentle, even if they hurt. If the Japanese boy had wanted to cause real damage, he would have, Allen knew that. That wasn't the point. He needed to remain in the hospital where he would be watched and Kanda needed to leave it to find Lavi, but if they wouldn't let an unhurt person stay without reason, the solution was simple. Allen needed to be a hurt person.

He played it up, groaning as Kanda moved away, holding his face and slumping onto his side. The floor was cool against his skin and he pretended that it felt good, even if it really only made the headache a little less painful.

"Che. Can he stay now?"

"You… you monster!"

Allen opened his eyes at those words to find the nurse kneeling down to inspect him, completely oblivious to the effect those words had on the swordsman behind her. The British boy smiled wanly at the long-haired man and gave him a sly wink in the hope of breaking the stunned look on his face – and when it failed, Allen puckered his lips as if for a kiss instead.

Kanda's expression dissolved into an oddly crooked smirk of amusement.

"I'll be back in two days, Bean Sprout. If you recover early, I will kill you." Kanda's dark eyes, still somehow laughing despite his seeming inability to do so with his mouth, shifted from Allen's face to the back of the nurse's head. There wasn't any anger, this time. It had been there for so long that its absence was almost foreign to the boy on the floor being poked with boney fingers. "Well?"

She bristled and turned her green eyes toward Allen – he quickly schooled his features into an expression of what he thought might have been agony. Luckily, she didn't see through it. "It would a breech of my oath to send him away. He can stay one day, at least. If you come back before then, I will have the police arrest you."

"Hmph." The swordsman shrugged, turning away. "They won't take me. Monsters don't belong in prisons, do they?"

Allen watched as Kanda began to walk toward the doors, and the fabric of his coat swished behind him at an opposing tempo to his hair. When Allen thought about it, Lavi's disappearance hadn't changed a lot about the swordsman – not really – but it had made him say things like that, made him more open, made him closer to Allen. And even if there were more bruises and fewer moments of blatant name-calling and rivalry, there were new insights that Allen never would have made before, and words he never would have guessed the meaning of.

_Monster_ didn't mean _Exorcist_. Not to Kanda, at least.

-- -- --

**Slightly angsty note to end on but… well, it happens. I hope you like the chapter! Sorry it took so long. Work has gone crazy – I'll try to post what I have when I can, it's all a matter of what gets written faster. Thanks for reading and reviewing! (BTW, you people out there who fave/alert without reviewing… I completely understand. But it wouldn't be a bad thing to know what you like about the story, ne?)**


	12. Faith and Desire

**I'm not dead. And I'm sorry for not answering reviews, but life ate them. Really. My sis had her child, and between that and work and whatnot, it just wasn't possible. I'll try for this chapter, but no promises. ;.;**

**Um… ya'll don't want to hear about how crazy Niamh's life is, nor do you want to hear about how updates will be slow in the future, so I'll just keep that to myself. You guys can just encourage me. That way we all feel better about it. :3**

**Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray-man. If I did… the whole story would be dirtier. And yes, that pun was intended.**

**WARNINGS: Emotional stuff, gore, etc. It's NHArawn, you know what to look out for. ;3**

**-- -- -- **

Chapter Twelve: Faith and Desire

The rain, the room, the play of Tyki's wet hair against the cushions – Lavi didn't know what he appreciated more. There were so many details that he hadn't known, so many colors and curves and soft, lovely things to see, he wasn't all too sure he would be able to sleep without finding something to _focus_ on. But focus did not come easy. The curls in Tyki's dark hair, the light of the fire on the other side of the couch, the golden play of water drops on the blue fabric of their makeshift bed– he couldn't just see one of them. There were so many, many things. Lavi wanted to look at everything and nothing at once, if only he could remember how.

He could, however, focus on the fire. The flames licked at the fire grate, caressed the wood even as it destroyed it. It smelled warm, felt warm, and danced in shapes and designs that might have meant something to someone, if they only knew how to read it.

Lavi wasn't afraid of it. He felt that, at some point, he and fire had become intimate friends.

But he kind of liked to look at Tyki, too.

The Portuguese man had dragged him into the bathroom and then into the bathtub, distracting him from the shock of red hair and pair of green eyes in the mirror. Afterward, Lavi had found his face reflected in Tyki's eyes and that had been enough – his own face didn't have any meaning to him. Not any more than the off-white porcelain of the tub. But now, with his head pillowed on the older man's chest and the light of the fire warming them in ways he hadn't known existed, he had wonder what it meant to Tyki. What any of it meant to Tyki. What sex meant to Tyki. Because there was something dark in his chest, tight and warm and happy, and it frightened him more than sightless nightmares ever could.

It was a familiar feeling.

"Lavi," Tyki's hands were large and a sort of tan gray in the firelight, tender on his shoulders. "If you squeeze my shirt much harder, your hands will cramp."

Lavi glanced down at his hands to find them white-knuckled on the larger man's button-up, boney and shaking. He willed them to loosen, chuckling softly, and watched the muscles move and uncurl almost mechanically. They shook. He couldn't understand why. "Sorry, I was just… I don't know." Lavi shut his eyes and turned his face into the familiar scent of Tyki's chest, blocking out the fire and the light. It wasn't a memory – he wouldn't let it be a memory. "Are we going to stay on this couch and listen to the fire and the rain and not talk about Allen or Lenalee or anyone or anything for a little?"

The weight under him shifted in that way he was used to and he tilted his head back just enough to feel the brush of lips on his forehead. As good as seeing could be, feeling was better.

"We will have to get up to make dinner." Tyki mumbled, and his lips smiled on Lavi's skin. "Or lunch. Which meal was it I had you for?"

"Har har. So funny." Lavi opened his eyes enough to look up at the older man, and wound an arm around Tyki's waist, pulling himself closer. It was comforting to be that way, somehow, and he didn't have to look at the fire if he turned his right eye into Tyki's chest. "I guess that's okay, then. I like to be like this…" His voice lingered for a moment where he wanted to say something, but he didn't know what it was. They were close, but that wasn't the term. Touching. Warmth. Bright. None of them fit.

Tyki shifted again, this time forcing the apprentice Bookman to look up at him with a large, gentle palm on the side of his face. "You act as if there is something you mean to tell me, but you aren't yet able."

"I… feel…" Lavi knew. The emotions, the happiness and heat, the desire for more, the hope of tomorrow, the fear of losing the man beside him – he knew what it _felt_ like. But there was something _wrong_ with feeling it, wasn't there?

"Do you hurt?"

"Not physically." He had meant to say no.

Tyki frowned at him. "Lavi…" The Portuguese man's lips pressed to the redhead's forehead once again, so pleasant and satisfying. "When I hold you like this… in the firelight, and kiss you and touch you… do you feel different than you used to?"

He wanted to nod. He truly tried. Instead, he closed his eyes and sucked in a hissing breath, a harsh tremble in his shoulders.

"I feel different." Tyki whispered, just as low and shaking as Lavi's voice would have been. "And feeling how I feel makes me wonder what will happen to us when all of your memories have returned. The people you knew… will you sacrifice them to be with me? Will you still forgive me for the hearts I have taken and the lives I have destroyed?" He chuckled half-heartedly, dry and cracking, with no mirth whatsoever in the sound. It sounded to Lavi like it hurt the older man, or like something was terribly wrong. "But when I'm with you like this, none of that matters."

Lavi wanted to nod again, but he couldn't. He focused on his mouth, on that emotion in his chest, on the fire and the memories. Allen and Lenalee and the boy named something like Yo – this was different than them. With them, he somehow hadn't really known.

"I think…" Lavi started, only to realize how bad it was to start that way and tapper off. It didn't matter. The words were already in the air, gathering dust. "I think I might feel… something like… love, Tyki." He wanted to babble, but he didn't allow himself.

"Love, Lavi?"

What emotion was in that voice? What expression was Tyki making? Lavi couldn't hear or see or tell. He had stopped observing. He had stopped breathing.

"Love," Tyki repeated. "Or something like it?"

Lavi felt himself shaking, but didn't know why he was. He felt nervous and tight lipped, breathless and cold. Yet his face was flushed, he could feel it.

The man that looked down at him, that smiled in a wan sort of way, that leaned down and pulled him into a hug, could not have been the man who had taken hearts and killed so many people. If he was, Lavi didn't care. "Thank you," Tyki whispered. "I cannot say that it is love, or that I feel love for you, but I am happy that we have something like that between us."

The redhead remained silent for a time, unsure how to respond. Something like love. Yes, they could have something like that, no matter who or what they were.

They fell into gentle silence again, filled by the sound of the rain and the crackling fire. Lavi didn't say anything else for a moment, instead turning his left eye to the familiar light of the flame while his right stayed buried against Tyki's chest, half-closed to the illumination that filtered to his pupil. He was comfortable and many things were familiar. The smell of flames and their movement most of all.

Gunfire.

It was _right _there, loud as it would have been in the same room, roaring and strong and carrying the scents of blood and ash, brimstone and gunpowder. Lavi didn't see where it came from or where it was going – the room remained exactly as it had been without the terrible sound of war filling it – but he _felt_ and _heard_ it as surely as he felt Tyki's arms around his shoulders. But there were no Akuma in sight. Tyki didn't seem to give a damn about the ruckus.

Akuma?

Round machines. Killing machines. Harbingers of war.

Demons.

They were different but they were the same. And they powered themselves with sorrow.

A blast so loud it made the back of his head vibrate echoed somewhere in the house. He tried at once to cling to Tyki and sit up to look, horrified what might be happening just outside, and _needing _to do something about it. _Wanting _to. He fisted his hands on Tyki's shirt, his eyes pulled away from the fire in an effort to locate the sound.

"Lavi?" At the whisper of his name the room grew suddenly still, silent but for the popping of the fire and his own rushed breathing. There was no gunfire, no war, no Akuma. It was just the two of them curled together in the light of the fire, and the sound of the rain pelting softly on the roof above them.

He blinked at the older man, perfectly aware that there was fear dancing in his green eyes. "They're awful," he whispered the words and clenched more tightly to Tyki's chest. "Those things… those… Akuma… they're terrible, aren't they?" Something small and insignificant – a tiny piece of his past – fell softly into place in his mind, something that nit the fire and the Akuma together so that he understood. Nyoibo. The name had come to him and he had remained indifferent to it. He had known that whatever Nyoibo was, it made him the opposite of Tyki; now, however, he knew why. "I used to burn them a lot when I heard them. And they would shoot at me. And you… you were on _their_ side? Why?"

Tyki's soft brown eyes seemed to grow gold in the firelight, but he didn't answer. Instead, he reached out and took Lavi into his arms again, pulling him downward, pulling into the warm, scarred surface of his chest.

Lavi let himself fall. "Why would you follow a God that wants to create things like that?"

The Portuguese man's hands were very large and gentle on his back, moving in slow lines. When he spoke, it was in a small, cracked whisper. "It isn't my place to ask that question." Tyki's hands stopped. "I didn't choose anymore than you did."

There were still things he didn't know. Fate hadn't played into his thoughts.

"Tyki…" Lavi looked up at the gray-olive man beneath him and furrowed his eyebrows. There was something wonderful about the older man in the firelight, and something terrible. Lavi did not want it to be familiar. "I'm sorry. I just… I don't want to remember anymore." It was painfully true. Painful because he didn't know what he was giving up, but he didn't specifically care at the moment either, because Tyki couldn't be – regardless of the people killed, of the things done – _evil_.

When the Noah spoke, it was with a decidedly gentle tone. "If I knew how to reject them from your brain and you wanted me to, I would."

Lavi closed his eyes and pressed himself still closer to the older man, trembling half in fear, half in something completely without name. He wasn't frightened of Tyki. He was horrified he might remember something that would change how he felt for the man beneath him.

"I won't leave you." Tyki's voice was a sure and steady as the beat of his heart against Lavi's cheek. "Not even if you hate me."

"Good."

-- -- --

Link barely woke long enough to see that Allen was in the room with him and then he was out again, only to wake again a few hours later. He didn't seem too aware of himself – or overly concerned with Allen's slightly inconsistent presence at his side – but he did meet eyes with the younger boy just long enough to look thankful. Some things, it seemed, couldn't be bashed out of Link's head, for some reason.

Still, when the assistant inspector woke for the third time around evening, he looked gaunt and weak and uncomfortable. Despite that, however, he turned to the boy in the chair beside him and opened his mouth to speak.

"A few days." Allen answered before he could ask. "And I was with Kanda when I wasn't here. Your skull is fractured. Don't try anything stupid." Which sounded ironic even to the British Exorcist's ears. Still, it needed to be said, if only as a principle.

Link gave him one of those weak, rare smiles and opened his palm in Allen's direction against the white sheets in a motion that could have meant a thousand things. This time, Allen knew, it was an offer of thanks. He hadn't run away, he hadn't been killed, he hadn't done something irrefutably wrong, he hadn't contacted the Noah – he'd been a good little Exorcist, just like they wanted. Somehow, the gratitude for his actions seemed less demeaning from Link than it did from Leverrier.

"Yeah, I know." Allen waved him off, though a smug grin attempted to pull at his lips. "You should thank Kanda more than me – he noticed you were missing."

The assistant inspector didn't nod, but his eyes agreed. With slow, tired movements of his eyes and deep, hard breaths, he spoke. "F-furniture?" It was soft and laughable, given how often that statement had come back to haunt Allen in the past few months. Just the word alone brought an unsteady smile to the assistant inspector's lips. Pale and thin as they were, the expression mirrored itself on Allen's face – it was humorous in an odd sort of way, and honest in another.

Allen let his eyes wander away from the man in front of him and instead focus on the untouched plate of lunch resting gently on the beside stand.

"Furniture doesn't need food, does it?"

-- -- --

Tyki was only a bit surprised when Lavi volunteered to go _alone_ to procure the things necessary for dinner the following evening, and was a good deal _more_ surprised by the boy's insistence once he had showed his disapproval. There were dangerous things outside – Noah, Akuma, murderers, cut purses, Bernadette – and Tyki found himself _worried_ about what might befall the helpless Exorcist out of his presence. And yet, despite that, it offered him a golden opportunity that he did not wish to ignore. There were plans he had laid – he had the Akuma for it at the moment and nothing _bad_ ever came of allowing them to kill humans – that he did not want to see come to fruition in front of his lover.

Lover. The word just suddenly _meant_ Lavi, somehow. It had more to do with the feeling of the younger man's chest and the fit of his arms and the depth of his kisses than it did with the emotions – which remained somewhat undefined – between them. There was meaning and purpose and something dark, warmth and pain and fear also. It was all knotted with awkwardness that reminded Tyki of something sacred and important, new and exciting. The word, though he could say it in his mind, never made it to his lips in conversation.

"I'll be fine, Tyki," Lavi said to him at the door, swimming in a coat and shirt and pair of pants that had never belonged to him. His right boot fit snuggly over what remained of his makeshift cast and held his ankle in place, which in turn made the black length of the cane in his hand look like something decorative rather than the crutch it functioned as. "It's just a few eggs and some bread, nothing worth stealing, you know?"

The Noah wasn't altogether sure how to express the fact that that wasn't his number one worry.

So he kissed the boy firmly on the mouth and let him wander off into the day with the most detailed set of directions known to man floating around in his head.

And then Tyki went to work himself.

It was true that his favorite third level Akuma had been destroyed by Allen Walker, but that didn't diminish his resources too terribly. There was a second level with a good amount of cunning and small amount of understanding left at his disposal, and a quick thought was enough to receive all of the information it had gathered.

Bernadette was indeed a madam of some renown it seemed, and her underlings ranged from talented older women to blushing young boys, all of which were cared for and fed and clothed. A do-gooder in a dark and sinful world – with beautiful auburn hair and eyes the color of polished amber. She had made something of a name for herself and the cleanliness of her practices to the point that not even the law bothered with her much anymore.

Tyki, however, was not the law.

Grabbing his long coat and a hat that might obscure his features from a distance, Tyki left the little house on brisk feet, knowing exactly where he was headed. He would watch, that was all. He would watch the whorehouse burn and kill that awful woman with his own hands.

It wasn't raining, but the air was heavy as if it might, cool and soft against his face and hands. He hadn't brought his gloves, having no use for them, and the slight change was enough to send a thrill of anticipation dancing up his spine. It was true that his actions might bring about the wrath of one Exorcist or another, but he doubted it – for all they knew he had completed his mission and moved on in a direction that they might follow – and he would not allow himself to assume otherwise. If he came by one in the street and he found himself ignored, there was no reason to change that, not without direct orders from above.

He wasn't hunting _them_ after all. He had a new, more interesting query in mind.

From the far side of the street, just beneath the shadow of a halted carriage, Tyki observed the large, wooden building that marked his destination with eyes that lingered on the angles of the windows and the lay of the roof. It was a sturdy building, and eye catching, decorated with paint that had been mixed with broken glass so that it seemed to shine silver in the spring light. Silver and red – deep crimson, gentle gold. It would have been beautiful if not for what it was.

Tyki closed his eyes and ordered the Akuma already in position to begin.

-- -- --

The explosions rocked the entire street enough to send Lavi fumbling for the nearest lamppost, eggs and bread clutched to his chest in fear. The sound brought to mind a thousand memories that he could not hold on to, and a thousand and one curses he couldn't name the languages of. His knuckles whitened the harder he gripped the black metal of his street lamp, and still there was another explosion in the distance, loud and filled with screams of terror.

Lavi sank against the cobblestone walk way, still holding on with one hand, and tried to peer into the street around him, tried to hear what might be going on. The sound of bullets leaving barrels and the screams of the people they struck, splintering wood and shattering brick, the crash of roofing tiles and the smell of freshly cut wood – he observed it all in the course of a single second. He heard names and saw faces, memorized them, traced the skyline and discerned the origin of the gathering smoke and dust. In the course of just a few heartbeats he felt himself embody the internal calm that he had lacked while hearing the phantom Akuma in the living room, and strength he had not imagined himself feeling. He didn't have to hold on to the lamppost. He could go and record what was happening.

Record?

He pushed the thought out of his mind and heaved himself onto his good leg, teetering on the shuddering street. It didn't matter. He just needed to see what was happening and be sure that it wasn't as near to the house as he thought.

-- -- --

She truly had beautiful hair. It was the exact same shade as Lavi's, only longer and thinner, wavy and soft to the touch. Her eyes, however, were not that piercing emerald that Tyki had come to enjoy so much – they were pretty amber, shot through with gold that flickered the more she feared him. And she did fear him. Bernadette feared him almost enough to weep at his feet if he told her to.

Almost.

He stood in the midst of the rubble that had become of the whorehouse, holding the little redheaded woman by the hair on the nape of her neck, unsatisfied with her, displeased with her. The sunlight was fading a bit toward twilight, casting the ruins in shades of red and orange, but he didn't have eyes for it. He only looked down at the little madam and smiled at her angled, pale features and watched her reel back in an attempt to free herself.

"I told that whore of yours that your death would be worse than his. I promised you'd suffer worse than he had to." Tyki explained, and grinned at the silent way the woman tried to fish-mouth words to stop him. She wasn't like the boy. The boy had been brave even if he hadn't been good. She tried to be good without being brave at all. "He told me that you won't pleasure a man with your mouth, Bernadette. He offered to. And then I tore out his stomach and his lungs and he died. He died choking on his own blood." He jerked her head up, the better to expose the line of her throat, and almost laughed when she tried to claw at him, when her hands sank through him as if through air. Only a thought and her fingers would sever themselves, but that would be cruel.

Tyki didn't want to be cruel. Tyki wanted to be pleased.

"Perhaps I'll take the things you have no use for. Wouldn't it be better if you didn't have what you don't use?"

Her eyes, perfectly round with fright, didn't convey the same incompetence as her gasping, horrified mouth. She couldn't even scream.

"Your tongue might be an interesting place to—"

He was interrupted by an explosion and a very familiar scream of fear from the far side of the street. Akuma were already on the move to intercept the trespasser, assuming the man had lived through the initial attack against him. Tyki didn't want that to happen. He turned, a silent command in his mind, and watched the dust settle from the gun shots, most of it brick and mortar and other such things that wouldn't be healthy to inhale. Indeed, it was only a matter of moments before a coughing, sputtering redhead lurched into view, tear-stained cheeks streaked with dirt and dust.

Tyki felt his blood go suddenly cold.

He did not want Lavi to see him as he was. He did not want the apprentice Bookman to remember.

He broke his promise.

Bernadette's head simply separated from her shoulders as he willed it, quick and sudden, in the course of only an instant. The blood that followed, the burble of the air, everything – Tyki rejected it all. He cast out orders to his Akuma as an afterthought, hurried and direct. Flee. Hide. Leave the boy alone. Blend in. Run. He did the same himself, sinking into the earth. Tyki did not want Lavi to see him like that, like this. He felt… unhappy with himself. With the situation. He didn't want to be anywhere near what had happened when Lavi saw it.

But what would Lavi do? What would the redhead think when he opened his eyes and came to the rubble, when he found that woman, headless, her body bleeding in the dirt? Would he remember? Would he know at once who had killed her?

It was too dark under the city to think of these things, and he couldn't stay in limbo forever. So Tyki moved himself up again, up and west, his thoughts growing darker as he went. He needed, even if it was a lie, to find Lavi and soothe him. He needed, even if it was a lie, to be sure that the boy didn't see that woman's corpse and think of the war they both had a part in.

He broke the surface some two blocks from where he had disappeared beneath the street, half in the wall of a dubious looking store. With one long look at the fading sunlight, he decided that it was a good enough place to start.

-- -- --

The blood was almost maroon in the dirt, almost ruby in the woman's hair. Her eyes were soulless, lightless dark amber, open and emotionless. Her skin was the color of bleached parchment, semi-transparent, thin and blue from lack of life. Dead. The woman was dead. There was no hope to fix how she had died, even if the cut through her neck was so straight there was no chance in Hell a blade had done it.

There so much blood.

Lavi felt disgust well up inside of him looking at her, and smeared her blood on his mouth in an effort to keep himself from gagging. The plan backfired and he emptied his stomach into the rubble and shook, his mind reached for some reason, some memory that might explain what he had stumbled upon. He couldn't find anything. He didn't know of anything or anyone that could behead a person like that, and he didn't want to learn. He didn't want to record. He didn't want to be curious about what the woman had done or who she had been, where the other people who lived in her house had gone and why that house was now lying in a pile under his feet. The redhead was sick and covered in grime only half of which he could guess the contents of, that was enough to make him want to stop thinking altogether.

There were dark pentagrams burned into the ground. He _felt_ that those came from Akuma. He _felt_ that he wouldn't find a single body in the mess around him. He also felt that he was still ready to dry heave at any moment, which he did as soon as he thought about it.

The tears, however, weren't something he felt. They simply started and refused to stop, racking his frame, making it hard to see. He didn't know the woman, so why was he crying? He didn't know. He only tried to scramble for his cane – he'd dropped it and the eggs and the bread at some point – and find a way to stand, but he couldn't. In his moment of horror and curiosity, he had trapped himself next to this dead woman on a pile of ruins with no way to get away but to crawl.

Lavi floundered, fingers trailing over the path he had struggled across just minutes before, and jerked his right back when he found the sharp side of a piece of glass. He hadn't seen it from the blurring of his vision, and now he couldn't see if he was bleeding or if he had the woman's blood on that hand, too.

In the back of his mind, something reminded him of something else.

And he remembered having blood on his hands, someone else's blood. Someone who had trusted him to watch their back. He had a face in his mind, an angled face framed in soft looking dark hair, smooth skin he could remember against his. There had been rushed breath against his face. It wasn't much blood, just enough to cover his fingers, and yet he felt painfully apologetic about it, and frightened, and terrified that he had done something irreversibly wrong. But that hadn't been the case. That blood hadn't been like this.

Then there had been something meaningful.

"Stop it, brain, I don't care about that," Lavi mumbled, closing his eyes and pulling his hands to his chest. "I'm happy. This was an accident. I just need to stand up and walk away before anyone gets here. I just need to go home and tell Tyki what his family members look like." He poked at his left leg with his shaking, wounded right hand, and frowned at it, at the dirt that now covered the borrowed surface of his pant leg. "There's nothing wrong with you so hold all of my weight, damn it. On three?"

"Lavi!"

The apprentice Bookman jerked his face in the direction of his name, recognizing that warm, honey and burgundy voice even raised in a yell. Tyki was standing just at the corner of some building that looked as if it might have been blasted by mistake – the outer wall was scorched to the point that the paint was unrecognizable – his expression serious and somewhat frightened, eyelashes weighed down with dust from the air around him. He seemed so concerned, so human, that the thought of Akuma left Lavi's mind in an instant, and he reached out for the older man in an attempt to draw him closer.

The Noah started for him, moving at a brisk, if careful walk over the debris. His concern only seemed to grow when Lavi didn't push himself up, his plan to talk his left leg into lifting him abandoned.

The redhead only hoped that neither Tyki nor Akuma had anything to do with the mess he had walked into.

-- -- --

Allen was more than surprised when Kanda called him just after sunset, and perhaps a little frightened that something had gone wrong on the mission or that the swordsman had found _heart_ enough to _miss_ him. As he lifted the receiver to her ear and greeted the Japanese man in a soft, worried voice, he cast his eyes from the telephone to inside Link's room, to be sure that he wouldn't disturb the sleeping assistant inspector. If Kanda was calling out of loneliness the last thing Allen wanted was to whoop in unfettered glee and make Link die of trauma.

Well, maybe not the _last_ thing.

"You said you would call me everyday, Brat, and you haven't at all today." Kanda's voice crackled over the phone line, strained and tired as if he had spent the day on the road, heavy as if their time apart hadn't been too splendid on his mental health. Allen twisted his fingers in the black phone chord and thus dragged Tim closer to him, causing the golden golem to flutter in distress. He smiled at Tim in apology and released the chord. "You didn't, I don't know, jump off a building or something equally stupid?"

Allen frowned. "No. Link woke up. I was keeping him company."

"Che. Spare me the details."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing that isn't true."

"Kanda, if you're implying that Link and I are something more than Inspector and Inspect-ee—"

"I said I don't want details."

Allen felt his eyes narrow and so turned them away from Tim. Kanda was irritating, to say the least. And if either of them was gay, Kanda had the girly hair and the soft features and the figure for it – not that the British Exorcist was looking. Much. "Look, is there a _reason_ you called? Or are you so stupid mine is the only number you know?"

"Bean—"

"It's _Allen_. And I don't want to hear about how lonely you are. Please."

Kanda made a strange harrumphing sound, like he was somehow annoyed and amused at the same time, and cleared his throat. "Look, I've made it to the town where the kid was found with his organs lying outside of him and it seems there's something going on. Just this afternoon a whorehouse was destroyed by what sound like Akuma – the madam was found headless, but her head wasn't cut off." The swordsman paused, as if he were thinking of words, before he went on in a softer tone. "It was like her head and her body had simply fallen away from each other."

The white haired boy looked at Tim watched the golem come to rest on the top of the wall mounted telephone, wings tucked in close. They both knew what that could mean and neither of them wanted it to be true. "Tyki Mikk?"

"A man in his middle twenties and a younger man with red hair were seen leaving the area just moments before anyone could see what had happened. The redhead… had an eye-patch."

"Kanda?" Allen didn't like how the other man's voice was growing tight.

"Don't use that tone, Bean Sprout, and no, stay there."

"But if it's Lavi—"

"Why the fuck would he be with Tyki Mikk?" The swordsman stole the words from the back of Allen's mind, if not out of his mouth. "I don't know. It's too soon to come to any conclusions." There was a sigh then, and Allen came to the conclusion that Kanda was shifting uncomfortably on his feet, remembering what had happened the last time he had crossed path with the Noah in question. Maybe he was leaning on something and glaring at the nearest person he could see. Or at a wall, he liked to do that too.

Allen, somehow, didn't like the thought of the swordsman lingering on that thought. "I take it you want me to sit here with Link while you parade around like an arse and get yourself killed then?" That wasn't the best way to get Kanda's mind off of it, but the British Exorcist hoped it might work. "For all we know it's the Noah of Lust trying to lure us into a trap or something."

"But if it isn't…"

"It makes more sense that way, doesn't it?"

Kanda fell into thoughtful silence for a moment before sighing over the line. "I'm going to look at the ruins tomorrow, see if I can point myself in the right direction. Stay put."

"Kanda."

"What?"

The British boy shut his eyes and tried to not sound the least bit condescending. "If you find Tyki Mikk, don't fight him. There's always a chance that you'll lose again, and he might actually kill you this time. Just… I don't care if I have to leave Link here against orders, my situation can't get much worse and you—"

"Che. It can." Kanda growled softly. His voice had an odd edge to it. "They let you out of the Goddamn grounds don't they?" He made a strange sound like a laugh. "There's very little the Church isn't willing to do in the name of God."

Allen bit his lower lip. They didn't talk about the things that the Church would do usually, nor did they talk about the way that Kanda knew. He didn't particularly want to know everything that Kanda knew, not after what he had already learned, but he was willing to test were bad ended and worse began. There were things worth worse. Kanda, Lavi, Lenalee – they were worth anything, Allen knew. He couldn't care what would happen to him. "It doesn't matter. Don't be stupid."

Kanda sighed at him.

"Please, Kanda?"

The swordsman grumbled something that wasn't understandable.

"Do not make me work my earring into the line so I can call Lenalee to make you promise."

"Fine! Damn it! I won't try anything. Just… don't call Lenalee."

Allen smiled. "And if I don't call you, you call me. You aren't allowed to disappear, understand?"

"You're like my fucking mother or something." Kanda growled, and made that sound like he was shifting on his feet again. It made Allen want to tell him to sit down. "Now go play nurse to your chaperon, Bean Sprout. I have things to do before I sleep."

The British Exorcist would have asked if Kanda even _had_ a mother, but he was too frightened the answer would be in the negative, and so let the comment go unremarked. Instead, oddly, he found himself smiling. He hadn't really, truly smiled at Kanda, he didn't think, since the last he had thought the swordsman dead. Or maybe it was the time before last. It had been a long time. "Try not to think of me while you do them."

"Huh?"

Allen waited.

"Che."

"Goodnight, Kanda."

"Whatever, Bean Brat."

-- -- --

"I'm sorry about the eggs." Lavi shivered against the pillow that he and Tyki had come to share, right hand extended for the second bandage of the evening. He had cut himself in a crooked, jagged line that bisected his life line twice and marred his palm with a mark that wasn't likely to scar despite its seeming deepness. It still stung, but Lavi tried not to think about it. In fact, he tried not to think about a lot of things.

That woman's head, the body, the clean way the two had been separated, the fresh blood, the glass, the expression on her pale features—

Lavi didn't want Tyki to have anything to do with it. And he didn't want to image the Others – the woman who turned to dust, the crew that bid him adieu, the man who took a bullet for him in the snow – and remember their names or their faces. The past was the past, wasn't it? And he had been on the wrong side of the war, hadn't he? And Tyki wouldn't do something like that – couldn't. Not with the hands that he touched Lavi with, not with the fingers that he covered wounds and traced scars with.

"I'm just glad that you're alright, Lavi." Tyki whispered to him, not looking up from the gauze he had placed on Lavi's palm. The room was lit by both the lamp by the door and the candle atop the bookshelf by the bed, which cast Tyki in shades of gold that made his hair look just a shade off from black, his eyes nearly the same shade as the flame. There was no evil in him, no malice, no anger. And the angle at which he was sitting, kneeling on the floor while Lavi had the bed and pillow to himself, made that even more obvious.

Lavi reached out and tangled his left hand in the other man's hair. The colors changed, but the texture was exactly as he remembered it, exactly as it had been while he had been blind, soft and curling around his fingers. Gently, ignoring Tyki's momentary unwillingness to follow the pull of his hand, Lavi guided the older man into a kiss that felt exactly as it had when he had woke in the morning. Nothing had changed. If Tyki had killed that woman, if Akuma left stars in their wake, it didn't matter. It didn't change anything.

Because if he didn't believe that, he didn't know what he would believe. He didn't know what he would do. It would hurt too much to lose Tyki, too.

Too?

With slow, tender movements, Lavi pulled back enough to lay his forehead on Tyki's, close enough to feel his breath, too close to look him in the eyes. The hands that were still tugging at the bandage on Lavi's palm fell away only to return to the fabric of his borrowed white shirt and twist the hem.

The redhead took a steadying breath before he spoke. "Please, tell me that I'm wrong." He held on more tightly to Tyki's hair at the slightest hit of movement. "Tell me you didn't have anything to do with what happened today."

There was something in the way Tyki breathed, in the way his hands slid up to cup the sides of Lavi's face, that made his whisper that much heavier. "Do you want me to lie?"

Lavi wanted to shake his head. _"Yes."_

The Noah made a soft negative sound while his fingers moved into Lavi's hairline, gentle, slow, warm. They were so many things those fingers could be, but murderous wasn't one of them. "I don't want to lie to you. I never want to lie to you again."

"_Please."_

There had been so much blood, surely if Tyki had done something, there would have been some on his hands?

"I'm sorry."

The apprentice Bookman did not open his eyes while he wept. "I don't want to lose you. I don't want to be wrong about you. About Road and her big brown eyes and her sharp nose, about Shirley and his horse-face, about Lulubell and her hips – even the Earl. I don't want him to be anything but this adorable, lazy looking nobleman, not even when I see him for the first time." He sniffled loudly and cursed the fact that he couldn't control his tears. "I want you to be _good_. But how can that… how can murder be good?"

Tyki kissed him softly on the lips, shallowly. It would have been perfect. "I'm sorry."

"You're evil, aren't you? You're all evil."

The hands in his hair didn't even flinch.

"Me and Allen and the others… we were good, weren't we?"

The forehead against his remained just as solid as it had been, just as close.

"Tell me I'm wrong."

"Lavi…" The Noah's breath was warm and soft against the boy's lips, the color of his voice a soft silver. They needed to be closer. "None of it is as easy as that. Not even good and evil."

"But I'm wrong?"

"No." Tyki said at length. "We are."

-- -- --

**Thoughts? If it felt at all like it lacked description, I'm sorry, it happens when I'm tired sometimes. I'll make it up to you next time. And… just a warning – there are two VERY DIFFERENT WAYS this story can go. I'd like some OPINIONS on that.**

**AND! I should also mention that if I don't know where it's going by the time it gets there, it won't go ANYWHERE. So volunteers to tell me which idea sounds better are ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY for more UPDATES.**

**Thank you for reading and reviewing!**


	13. Scars in the Making

**Niamh apologizes for taking so long to update! Life is crazy. And I went to yaoi con. And now I have the flu. I believe that I answered almost every review last chapter (I did it by using the review list, not the ones in my inbox). And thank you ALL for your thoughts on what you think should (or might) happen in this story. Though I can't say that the majority rules, your thoughts did give me a VAGUE idea on how this fic will end. MAYBE. I think.**

**God willing, you won't ALL kill me for it. :)**

**I want to make ONE THING CLEAR before you guys read the rest of this story: **_This story isn't written for the sake of shipping a pairing or being sexy. If something changes – if it turns into TyKan or LaviYuu or Laven or ALLENxLENALEE and you quit reading, I have failed. __**IF IT ISN'T GOOD ENOUGH TO READ ON ITS OWN AND YOU ONLY READ IT BECAUSE OF THE PAIRING, I HAVE FAILED!**_

**Thank you.**

**Disclaimer: I no own D. Gray – man.**

**WARNINGS: I HAVE NO PAIRING LOYALTY. SEX. TIME SKIP MID CHAPTER. STUFF.**

-- -- --

Chapter Thirteen – Scars in the Making

Lavi decided quickly that he did not care if Tyki was evil or not – indeed, before the moon had reached its highest point in the night sky, he had made it his goal to rethink his opinion on the importance of such trivial things as the 'sides' of a war. It was stupid to think that either side was sinless, he knew that already, but the sins that he knew of were not the kind he wanted to think about. He wouldn't. It didn't matter anyways, not to him. He loved the man he had come to know, every part of him, even the dark parts, and if that meant accepting the death of innocents, the fate of the fallen, the evil of humanity, then he would try. Lavi was not a saint himself.

They were terrible things to try to accept, but he would try. It hurt knowing that they would continue to happen and that it was the dark and not the light he loved, but he would try.

It was easier than it should have been. At only the touch of his fingertips on Tyki's chest – his scars – Lavi could feel himself falling. It should have made him sick. Instead, it made him feel warm.

They sat together, his left leg woven between the older man's knees, leaning on opposing sides of the sofa. A badly abused copy of some cheap novel or other rested gently between his hands. Lavi could read faster than he could talk, he discovered, and none of Tyki's books were terribly long, so he kept a small stack of them next to the table, organized by his level of interest. At the moment, his interested had changed to Tyki.

The older man had fallen asleep after about seventeen pages of Wuthering Heights, the book laid perfectly over his eyes. There was still trust between them, and honesty, and a kind of comfort that Lavi couldn't really understand, a trust that went deeper than sides. Good and evil – it didn't mean anything to that feeling. Lavi wanted, more than anything, to hold on to it forever. He wanted the smooth, handsome lines of Tyki's face to always be like that, gentle and innocent as if in sleep, meaningless and yet perfect in the dying firelight. The world had gone soft around the edges in the darkness, and Lavi could only imagine that his heart felt the same way.

Murderers, traitors, demons – they we all loved by someone, weren't they? And this man, this human who was more than human, was too, wasn't he? Lavi didn't like thinking about it. He didn't like to think about the fact that someone _evil_ had saved him and taken him in, held him, soothed him, fed him, and clothed him.

Tyki, who was prepared to love him. Tyki, who had opened his arms knowing exactly what might come of their relationship and yet still seemed inclined to try.

Tyki wasn't good, but he was better than Lavi. And it hurt to think about it.

The Portuguese man shifted a little in his sleep, though not enough to dislodge the book on his face; Lavi could still make out the line of his jaw and the turn of his lips in the darkness. Tyki shuddered subtly, just enough to be seen, and the expression of his mouth turned suddenly sad. He didn't speak, but his expression was enough to make Lavi reach down and place a hand on the Noah's knee.

"Hey… hey, Tyki?" Lavi's voice sounded loud and strange even to his own ears. "Tyki?"

The Noah turned his head just enough to send his book toppling to the floor, his expression slightly uncomfortable. The smile lines around his eyes and mouth had never looked so deep.

Lavi struggled to maneuver himself into a position that would be better for the older man to wake up in, tugging himself up by the fabric of the older man's pants. He found himself somewhat uncomfortably teetering on his backside, left leg still between Tyki's knees, right almost hanging off of the couch. It was good enough, he decided, and leaned enough to place a hand on Tyki's stomach.

"Wake up, sleepy-head. We can't both sleep on the couch." The redhead said the words at a conversational volume and watched the man he was rousing blink up at him with slow, tired looking eyelids. The irises beneath were soft gold-brown, though the exact color was hard to make out in the sputtering firelight. "If you're tired, you should go to bed. I can make it in there on my own." Lavi added with a small, half-forced smile.

Tyki matched his expression, somehow a little pained. "Lavi."

"Hm?"

The Noah didn't speak for a moment, instead, he waved his arms out at the redhead, nonverbally seeking physical reciprocation. Lavi gave it to him without much thought, and Tyki's face grew brighter. "You look… soft." Tyki observed in a tired whisper. His fingers pressed against Lavi's palm, squeezing softly, human and tender, just like much of what the older man did. "It might be the light."

"Or maybe I'm just lucky," Lavi answered, and returned the pressure against his hand. It was easy to smile when he didn't think about what that hand had done or how terribly _weak_ Tyki seemed at the moment. Perfectly trusting. "You gonna get up, or do I have to carry you?" He ran his thumb over the back of Tyki's hand, distracting himself from the gold of his lover's eyes.

"Oh, I think I can manage to drag myself down the hallway, given I have a little time to try and persuade you to join me. I believe that you have something that you wanted to do to me, when you have the chance…" Tyki raised his eyebrows suggestively and Lavi felt a rush of heat in his cheeks.

"Not tonight." The redhead said softly. "I have too many things to think about."

Tyki nodded gravely, but didn't let his smile change. "Once you're over the fact that I'm old and evil, you know what to do."

Lavi shook his head amusedly. "You aren't old. And… the more I think about it, the more I want to justify what you've done. She was a bad person, wasn't she? I mean… I don't know the details and I don't _want_ to know them, but there was a reason that you did that, right. A reason you—" Lavi could see the woman's severed head when he closed his eyes, could imagine her hair, soaked crimson in her own blood, the harsh white contrast of splintered bone protruding from her neck. He wanted to be sick, but he pushed the feeling away, locking it up in the back of his mind with his fear. "A reason you killed her?" He finished with a steady voice, devoid of any of the things going on in his mind. He was good at that, perhaps too good to be comfortable with it.

Tyki closed his eyes and pressed his lips into a thin line. "Sometimes there aren't reasons, Lavi. I do as I am ordered, usually. Nothing less. When I do things of my own will it can be for the sake of killing a whore or for my own satisfaction – it changes nothing of what I am or what I do."

"But you don't give me the creeps like you should." Lavi protested lamely, hating that it was the only excuse he had. He reached down with his free hand and pressed it to the middle of Tyki's chest – the flesh beneath it warm and solid, human, perfect. It hurt, a little. "I don't care." It was hard to say it. "I don't care what you are or who you kill – you saved me, didn't you? You might have pushed me down that well, but you saved me afterward." The redhead didn't allow himself to laugh humorlessly at the thought. "There's good in you, even if you've killed for no reason. There are things you could do to change what you—"

"That's naïve of you, Bookman." Tyki's voice lacked any malice at all, soft and low, laced with dark things that Lavi didn't know the meaning of. It reminded him of the darker shadow cast by street lamps, deeper than the tone the older man usually spoke in. "Preaching to me like you know that I think about killing _you_ despite myself. The boy's hair was the perfect shade of red once there was enough blood in it. _Just like yours_." Regardless of the emphasis, Tyki's expression had not changed, nor had he moved from his place on the couch. There was no threat to him, no fire, only fact. Cold, horrible, inhuman fact.

Lavi drew his lower lip between his teeth, bit it, then let it go. The pain did not clear his head in the slightest. "I love you." He breathed, and tilted forward far enough to lay his head on the Noah's scarred and beaten chest. "It's hard, but I love you. If it's still war, then I…"

_Forgive_ wasn't the right word.

Tyki's hands drew up and rested them gently on the rounds of Lavi's shoulders, pulling him closer, kind and soft, just like they had always been. "We should still go to bed."

-- -- --

"Why are you calling me?"

"I wanted to know how you slept. Anyone who's slept in the same room with you more than twice knows that you have nightmares."

"Shut up." Kanda's voice was small and strained, groggy, filled with contempt. But the sound of it, the knowledge that Kanda hadn't died sometime during the night, was enough to make Allen smile. "I don't like you. I know you still have your golem and you're still at the hospital – goodbye."

"But Kanda!" Allen interjected, unable to stop himself. He fumbled. He had nothing to say, really, but he wanted to prolong the conversation somehow, drag it out for reasons he couldn't understand. Perhaps it was the fact that he had spent the night in the room he shared with Link allowing his thoughts to do what they pleased, to go where they willed, to linger where he least expected them. On Kanda. He didn't like Kanda, not as anything like a _friend_ at least, and the fact that they hadn't been in a physical altercation in days was getting to him. As was being cooped up in a hospital, waiting for his bruises to heal. "You have to come back tonight; they're kicking me out of here tomorrow morning."

The swordsman made a snort of disapproval. "I should have broken your face – I'd have more time then."

Allen scowled a little. "As if you could."

The British Exorcist was standing in front of the same phone he had used last time, running the fingers of his left hand over the numbers as he spoke, aware that Link wouldn't be able to see him if the assistant inspector picked that moment to wake up and look for him. It didn't matter. Tim could show the blond what had happened if it came down to it, not that Allen much enjoyed the prospect of watching himself struggle with his emotions over an ass like Kanda. The lighting in the hall, however, was soft silver, reflecting the clouds outside that had still not yet emptied their burden of rain onto the city, and he liked the look of it playing off the different nurses' hair.

So he stayed where he was, even though Link wouldn't be able to see him, and turned away from the wall. He could hardly follow Kanda's voice calling him names at the moment. Allen had been still too long.

Was it alright to move forward in time without moving forward in progress?

"Kanda?" Allen interrupted, and waved at the woman they had met upon arrival only to _wince_ when that extended his ribcage. The other end of the phone line was silent but for the sound of slow, soft breathing. "If you do find them – if it's Tyki Mikk and Lavi and something's happened between them… what will you do?" He wanted to tell the Japanese boy to come back and get him, to not face that sort of adversary on his own, to not put Lavi or his own life on the line—

"Che." The syllable had all the anger of a thousand curses. "The circumstances… I don't…" There was a pause in which Allen worried the swordsman would take hold of his anger and direct it at the British boy instead. "Nothing dangerous. I'll just bring Lavi home."

The white haired Exorcist felt himself relax at that, like a tight knot of cold iron had melted out of his chest. "Good."

"Now stop calling me!"

"I know, Kanda."

-- -- --

Morning, to Lavi, was sharp and painful and full of far too much light, even filtered through the rain clouds and the curtains. He curled himself around the warm-and-yet-cool body beside him and buried his face in Tyki's shirt, praying that it was only the light and not something more serious. He could smell sweet tobacco smoke and soap and the lingering scent of sweat on the older man, all of which soothed him almost enough to send him back into the shadows of sleep.

But the Noah drew him up and in, pulling his face away from the material and into a slow, deep kiss, sweeping like nothing Lavi could remember before. It was tender and good, and the pain from the light, from the brightness pouring in the window, only made Lavi close his eyes to the intimate contact. And it was intimate. It was simple and revitalizing, a testament to every feeling that Tyki had, and it didn't matter that the lips against Lavi's belonged to anyone but the man he thought he might love.

They tangled together, limbs around bodies, fingers around palms, and the redhead pulled the older man into him, wordlessly acknowledging what they both knew already. They were from opposite sides of a war, yes, but it didn't matter unless they wanted it to.

Sins, ideas, broken rules and promises – none of that held any weight. Murder didn't. Only the electricity between their two bodies did.

Lavi just had to ignore every silent alarm screaming in the back of his head. And really, that wasn't difficult. He focused on the smooth texture of Tyki's skin and the slow, deep rhythm to the older man's breathing, the soft curtain of his wavy hair on skin. They were human things, that was true, but they weren't lies. They should have been. Because as human as Tyki was, as gentle and tender and loving, he couldn't be human and kill like Lavi knew he had. It didn't work. His lips, smooth and gently parted, pressed to the line of Lavi's collar bone with absolute care, the teeth behind them so distant they almost weren't felt. It was a feathery touch, just enough to raise gooseflesh on the redhead's throat and draw his breath shaking from his lungs. Too sweet. Everything about the older man, about his hands sliding up Lavi's thighs and his tongue pressing into Lavi's mouth was too sweet to be true.

Still, Lavi returned the touches with as much enthusiasm as his still sore body would allow.

"We can pretend." Tyki said to him, and pressed Lavi's shoulders against the mattress. "I'm good at pretending."

Lavi knew at once what that meant and didn't like the thought of it, not with his fingers tangled in the loose curls of the older man's hair and his hips tilted invitingly against the pressure of Tyki's arousal. It wouldn't be the same if they pretended none of the dark was or had ever been. "No. I want you to tell me everything – everyone you kill, everything you break. Because they don't have anything to do with how I feel about you and I want to—" He cut himself off with a strangled sound of desire; Tyki's mouth was sliding down his neck.

"There have been so many…" Tyki mumbled, and his right hand began to drag down the redhead's pants and undergarments as one. "So many Exorcists over the years, so many people. Are you sure you want me to tell you about them?"

The apprentice Bookman swallowed with difficulty, nodding. "Because if I remember – _when_ I remember – I want to know already. I want to be with you afterward. And I won't want to if I feel…loss…" His fingers fumbled their way to the buttons of Tyki's shirt and he began to pick at them, one at a time, thinking of the scars underneath. Lavi forgot what he was saying. Loss? It wasn't as if Tyki didn't know loss, was it? There were scars and empty seats at the dinner table, weren't there?

"Then I will, Lavi. All of them."

Tyki finished tugging down the redhead's garments while Lavi opened the Noah's shirt and pushed it off. Lavi traced his fingers along the older man's chest and then up to his shoulders, down to the line of his pants, into them. His fingers, warm and confident, pressed at the inside of Tyki's thighs before they came back up again, working at the fasteners on the brown haired mans pants. "Enough." Lavi breathed, pulling at the material when it wouldn't come open fast enough. "Right now it's not important. You're a horny old man and I'm a horny young man and we love each other – the details can wait until we're done."

The Noah smiled at him so that the white line of his teeth and the smooth, angular line of his jaw looked perfectly eerie in the morning light. But his hair, cascading down his shoulders in wild tendrils of brown-black tangles, made the expression comical and soft, just like the twilight had the night before. "We will be fine after this, won't we? Even if you remember, I doubt you'll have it in you not to forgive me." He pulled Lavi to him then, his large hands fitting to the boy's hips, and leaned down so that his hair fell in an awkward, tickling sort of curtain, blocking out the light.

"I'd like to think so." Lavi admitted, and pulled Tyki down with as much sincerity as he had ever felt. With jerking, quick, encouraging movements, Lavi pressed himself up against the pillow and coaxed Tyki's hips back, rather irked that they were still clothed. "Naked."

"Not entirely." Tyki remarked, but moved away enough to drag them down regardless. It was only when they were gone and Lavi was pulled into the naked Portuguese man, that the redhead noticed the fact that he had yet to remove his own shirt. But it was negligible for some reason – unimportant and rather ridiculous. The shirt didn't cover anything they hadn't seen before, and Lavi trusted that Tyki had a good enough memory not to demand its removal, so he left it. Instead, he traced the curves and lines of the older man's stomach, a wide grin taking his lips.

Forcefully, knowing what he was doing, Lavi wound his fingers around Tyki's length, eyebrows quirked. "Let me…?"

"_Yes."_

The redhead smiled. With movements that were only half-careful of his ankle, Lavi moved himself from his place against the pillows to the middle of the bed, leaving the space he had been in for the Noah to lie in. With their positions switched, younger man quickly sank between the older man's knees and – without preamble – took the length of the older man's arousal into his mouth. It was a little amusing to him how Tyki moaned almost at once, low and surprised, but Lavi didn't give the sound much thought. Instead, he lapped from the base of the Noah's erection to the top of it, curving his lips around his teeth to avoid unpleasantness for either of them, pressing with his tongue like he remembered. The length wasn't the same, but the texture was. The taste was different, but he couldn't recall what it had been like before, or who, or when.

Lavi wouldn't try to remember. He tried to focus on what his mouth was doing, how much pressure he was sucking with, how tight he could pull in his cheeks, how far he could pull the older man into him. This was an act of trust and love – it didn't need a shadow of the past darkening it in his mind. His right hand was still bandaged, so he used that to cup Tyki's backside and lift him a little, encourage him to perhaps move with Lavi's slow swallow. The redhead just hardly held in a little retch of discomfort, then repeated the action, proud of himself for going on. He moved his mouth slowly up and then down again, pulled his left hand up to help. At his horribly slow place, Lavi stroked and sucked and swallowed, then hummed at the sight of Tyki's trembling thighs.

"Lavi…" The Noah's voice was hoarse with longing and heavy with feelings that shouldn't have been there. His fingers were warm and tender in the apprentice Bookman's hair. "Lavi…" He repeated; eyes hooded so their color was lost in the dimness.

Lavi knew what he meant. With a wet, almost awkward sound, he pulled away and smiled up at the older man, face tilted to the side. "Should I finish?"

Tyki dragged him upward and pulled him down, flushed, breathing deeply, his gold and chocolate eyes burning with things that Lavi understood the meaning of. The redhead reached for the nightstand with his left hand and fumbled haphazardly into the kiss Tyki offered, his knees pressed to the mattress on either side of the Noah's hips. There was no question in Lavi's mind how this was going to happen, and he doubted that if he asked Tyki would tell him otherwise. His warm hands found the drawer and from there he found the little jar that Tyki often used. Hurriedly, he pressed it into the older man's hand, then sank down to kiss the Noah firmly on the mouth.

Breaking away saw the container opened. There was no questioning or attempts at changing angles, there was only a little shifting so Tyki could reach up with his slicked fingers and stroke at the bud of Lavi's anus, gentle and yet quick, the way the boy had wanted before. There didn't need to be a request for more or a question of readiness – they both already knew.

"You're wonderful, Lavi." Tyki whispered, and just the sound of his voice made a pleasant little shiver tickle up Lavi's spine. "Every part of you, even the parts that I don't understand."

The redhead would have leaned down to kiss the older man, but he couldn't, not at that angle, so he nodded instead. "We'll get through this, won't we? So that tomorrow…" He shivered at how fast Tyki's finger went into him, but didn't tighten his muscles at it. They hadn't gone too quickly before, but Lavi knew what it was like to. He knew what it was like to fuck in uncomfortable places, to hold on for dear life while he drove into someone, while they drove up at him, while pain and fear and anger all bled out of him in panting thrusts. There were harsh, hard things that could go with sex and he could face them. "Tomorrow," Lavi repeated, and shook his head to rid himself of the nostalgia. "I can do what I said I would. With you taking me in…"

"We can try." Tyki agreed. But there was something in his voice and in the movement of his fingers that told Lavi what he knew already – that 'tomorrow' would never come.

Lavi hoped that was the case. Whoever he had been with had nothing here. The press of Tyki's fingers inside of him and the warmth of the thighs under his – those had meaning and purpose. So he pushed all other thoughts out of his mind and pressed his hips into Tyki's hand, willing the slight stinging away, fighting with his own urge to immediately thrust once again. The width of the fingers inside of him could have been two by now – he couldn't tell.

He could tell that he was flushed and warm, and that Tyki had begun to sweat along his hairline. It made Lavi shiver to watch a drop slither down the side of the Portuguese man's face, yearning to follow the same path with his tongue.

"Tyki, I want…" Lavi let the sentence go unfinished, completely aware of how he would have liked to end it.

Tyki's fingers slipped deeper, curved, but didn't touch the place that Lavi knew they were nearing. They pulled just slightly back, promising pleasure, yet denying it all the same. There was dull light in the Noah's eyes. "Eager, aren't we?" He whispered rhetorically, and pulled what proved to be three digits from within Lavi, his eyes hooded and hungry. The jar was in his grasp again, but the redhead wasn't paying too much attention to it any more. Lavi was looking instead at the angle he was going to sit. It was erotic and scintillating, tender, yet undoubtedly kinky, and Lavi honestly wasn't sure which part he should be gladder of. In any case, he gripped the older man's arousal and slipped his fingers up to the top of it before he pressed down again, all too aware of how Tyki's wet palm paused on its way to slick the length with him. With the heated skin coated, Lavi lifted his weight and focused, almost painfully sure that he was going to somehow make one of them uncomfortable.

He could only let gravity do the work for him. The feeling – which he didn't think he would ever be properly used to – wasn't so much like hurting as it was like stretching, and even then, he knew what would come next. The apprentice Bookman knew that the shiver that went down his spine and resonated in Tyki's hips was only the beginning.

'_Fuck, try not to hurt yourself, — .'_

"I'm alright." Lavi answered in a whisper, though it was only half true. He straddled the older man's hips, trembling slightly with need and exertion, and leaned back with one hand on Tyki's leg, the other fisted around his own erection. His fingers were a warm, pleasant little distraction from how worried he was that everything was about to fall apart. "I'm…oh…"

Tyki's hands wrapped around Lavi's hips and gently pulled him as close as they could be, shifting him so the shaft of his length fit securely inside of the boy resting on his pelvis. They were both shivering, breathing heavily, but it was Tyki who moaned out his enjoyment, fingers anything but tender on the redhead's flesh. "Will you say when you can move, Lavi?" Tyki's voice carried with it more than just a note of urgency, made more prominent by a restrained arching of his back from the bed. "Already?" He questioned a little more loudly.

The redhead took in a slow, deep breath, and tilted his head forward, forcing himself to relax. It was easier than it had been. "Keep me steady…okay?" It was the only real warning he gave before tilting his hips in a slow, gradual little movement that sent shivers up his spine and coiled heat in the base of his abdomen. There was so much heat in that one little movement that he almost groaned at it, his fingers twisting in the long, twirling cascade of Tyki's hair. It made him tremble ever so slightly.

'_Ah…'_

'_You never say please do you?'_

'_If I did you would just wait longer.'_

"Look at me." Tyki's voice pulled Lavi's eyes open – not that he had knowingly closed them. The Portuguese man's face seemed off somehow, but the sight of it, the familiar lay of the older man's hair, was enough to reassure the redhead of his position and his feelings. Tyki's expression was almost painfully sincere. "Don't think of anything right now."

Lavi tried to force a laugh and tilted his hips again, pressed his chest into the Noah's. "How could I?" He wondered vaguely if the lie was obvious on his face.

Tyki's eyes almost seemed to dim in the amber light, his eyelids falling to half-mast. There was something truthful beneath that look that made Lavi feel horribly transparent. "I don't know, but you shouldn't." He whispered, and this time he met the motion of Lavi's hips. "Are you…"

"Fine." The apprentice Bookman answered in a whisper. "It doesn't hurt. You're so…" He searched for the right word, but he was suddenly breathless, captured by the feel of a palm sliding encouragingly against the small of his back. It made swallowing difficult. He pulled Tyki's face closer as a means of description and felt his eyes close again, this time because he wanted them to.

"You were right," Tyki shifted again, a little harder, a little faster, pressing his fingers to Lavi's spine and hip. There was no chance the younger man would fall, not with their limbs wrapped so surely around each other, but the contact wasn't for that purpose anymore. Now, with the Noah's mouth pressed against the boy's lower jaw, it meant something intimate. "I do love you, Lavi."

The redhead felt himself smile a little more genuinely. "Good."

Their conversation dwindled into almost nothing after that, mostly small words of endearment and Lavi's suggestion that Tyki not bite his collar bone to the point that there might be unwarranted stains on the bed sheets. It drew soft laughs from both of them, mostly because they both knew the Noah would have gone on without the words to stop him.

Lavi arched against the older man at an increasing tempo, matching every lift of Tyki's hips, every brush of his mouth on skin. The warmth and tenderness of it all made even the slightest shift of the redhead's pelvis seem like a cue that was answered tenfold, whether with a quite word of appreciation or with a breathtaking movement of Tyki's whole frame. It made Lavi want more. It made him want to pull the Noah so close there would be something left when they tried to part again. But he couldn't. There wouldn't be anything but a mess afterward. And Lavi couldn't push away the thought that this was all nothing more than a play based on the concept of love, and it wouldn't matter at all once the curtains were closed.

He threw himself into the older man, aware that his fingernails couldn't have been comfortable on Tyki's neck, aware that he really didn't care about the ones scratching up his lower back as long as they kept up with the palm circling his erection. It made him gasp out the Portuguese man's name, and brought his spine into something of a bow, half-straining, half-following the flow of their rhythm. It was difficult, what with how quick their pace had become, but the redhead balanced as he was. The urgency and heat was enough to drive his desire to simply breathe out of his mind with his memories.

Most of his memories.

'_Ouch.'  
'I told you not to touch that.'  
'So you bit me? That's really mature…'_

Lavi shook his head. No, that didn't belong here. There was too much fire and too much wanting to have anything but the moment. The scent of Tyki's skin, the texture of his hair – those things were what the moment demanded and exactly what it was, even if it had dwindled into little more than the space between them.

That for an instant, for an endlessly finite moment, when their bodies were moving purely on instinct and there could be no thought about what belonged or what didn't, some small, purposeful thing happened. Somewhere between knowing that what they were doing and not caring how confusing it was, there was a place filled with nothing but fearlessness and desire, honest disregard for good or evil or anything in between. It was there, in that sacred place, that the fire between them turned into a roaring blaze. It was twisted and dark and so irrefutably wrong, that it was a wonder that there could be so much pleasure and closeness in it. And the wrongness of it, the emotions that had been corrupted by misunderstanding and hope alike, felt like a heavy, protective shroud around the two of them.

Lavi would have prayed that he never lost that feeling. He would have begged God Himself if he could have thought the words to do so. Instead, he leaned down and pressed his open mouth to the ridge of Tyki's ear and struggled to keep his breathing steady.

'_Itadake yo.'_

"Tyki—I'm…_oh…_" Lavi squinted his eyes shut and moaned. When had he gotten so close? He didn't know. He only knew that there was nothing in the room but the two of them and a thousand pounds of pressure in his abdomen. There couldn't be any warnings – he was too close and they were moving too fast and Tyki didn't seem too inclined to take anything he said into account anyway – so he simply bared down on the older man, his spine arched like a bow, his parted lips pressed hot and moist to the Noah's ear. The sound of their skin was the last thing to register in Lavi's mind before there was only fire and pleasure, Tyki's hands, and the feeling of every confusing thing he had thought in the last few days leaving him in a rush. It was perfect. It was so strange and wrong, and yet it was perfect.

His name seeped through Tyki's lips like a sigh or a breath of evening wind. The redhead felt his lover falter before he came, felt the always awkward flood of warmth, but didn't let it bother him. Instead, he sighed out his nose, almost gasping, and allowed them to both fall back onto the bed, completely wound up together, completely as one. He didn't open his eyes, not even when he felt his face touch the mattress.

"Good morning to you too," Tyki mumbled into Lavi's hair, light and honest, just like it should have been.

"Very good morning."

-- -- --

The weather was getting almost warm. The city had taken to smelling more like plant life and flowers, the streets like mud, the people like sweat and old soggy linen. The best and worst thing about the weather, however, was that the light made every flicker of red dance to life against the drabness of the buildings, made it come to life like the flame it so resembled. It was true that only the one man had claimed that he might have seen a person of Lavi's description – including the eye patch – in the area, but after that, the trail became less obvious. There were a handful of redhead's with brown haired friends. Geoffrey, Amos, and Cecil were the easiest to find. After that, it became a hunting game.

Kanda liked hunting. He didn't like hunting people.

There were too many memories.

He had taken too much time searching for Lavi and not enough time searching for Innocence in the last three months of his life. The last three months that he had spent darting from backstreet to alleyway to building, dodging despair and betrayal and Bean Sprout at every opportunity. The Brit was still holed up in that hospital, spoon feeding Link, and Kanda didn't see the point in going back to get him. There was no reason to drag the brat around like baggage and leave the half-invalid there to make up stories to tell the Order. Not when there was work that could be done. Not while their only chance to get back to Headquarters was an unapproved use of the Ark.

Not while he could still find rumors about a guy named Lavi running around with a sleek looking rich guy with a too-wide smile.

It was nearing late morning when he stopped at a bakery for food. While he was there, methodically chewing on a lump of sourdough, sitting outside because the inside smelled too much like cake, that he made the most spontaneous of discoveries. Not two hundred feet away, leaning a little on a cane and waving at a woman selling chicken eggs, was a redheaded boy that looked so much like Lavi, it made Kanda forget to swallow. There was no eye patch, but that was the only difference. The smile was the same. The posture was the same. Everything. Even the way he put his arm down and stuffed his hand into his pocket.

Whatever emotion it was that Kanda felt in that moment, it died in the cold fire of anger. He abandoned his food when he stood, ignored the fact that there were people on the street, that there could be Akuma, that he didn't yet understand the situation, and moved. If he waited, if he thought, if he paused – there was no telling what stupid thing he would do.

Mugen was in his hand before he could even think about drawing it. He didn't hear the voices that rose up around him, didn't even pay attention to the man who went running for a policeman. He simply went for the boy that had to be Lavi. Kanda went unnoticed for too long. Indeed, the redhead looked at him with a mismatched pair of perfectly circular eyes when he wasn't more than six feet away, and the apprentice Bookman's feet stopped moving. There wasn't a flicker of recognition or a smile or a flash of fear – there was only confusion and distant concern under a furrowed brow.

"You fucking idiot." Kanda hissed under his breath. It was the only thing to say, the only thing to feel. Mugen stayed at his side while he took the redhead by the arm and started to drag him toward an alley. It wasn't a good idea to fight in open spaces.

Only Lavi shook him off and stepped away – limped away. There was something missing in his expression. "Sorry… but… who…" Lavi looked down at the sword and took another step back; shot a look over his shoulder.

That pissed Kanda off for some reason. What kind of idiot did the rabbit take him for anyway? "Don't you fucking pretend that you don't know what's going on, Rabbit. You've been missing for _months_. You either explain while we walk or I take you back there and you tell Mugen, understand?" The Japanese Exorcist fought down a little twinge of worry when Lavi didn't seem to follow what he meant. "What's wrong with you?"

The redhead took another step away. "I don't… remember you." He mumbled, and then he was turning away, moving away, going as fast as his limping gait could carry him.

The swordsman caught him by the arm and managed to propel them both in the direction of two brick buildings. "Where the Hell have you _been_, Lavi?!" This time, the apprentice Bookman tensed but didn't fight him, but Kanda didn't let the boy have his arm back. In fact, he slammed the idiot against the wall of the alley the moment they were close enough and pressed the sharp edge of Mugen's length to the silent boy's throat. He'd had enough of this. The way Lavi gasped and tried to scamper away, the fear in the idiot's eyes, his silence – the lying was going to stop before it went too far and someone died.

"Look, Miss." Lavi said in a rushed, high whisper, trying to push Kanda away without touching him much. "I've only got money for eggs and bread on me, but if that's what you want—"

"Why are you pretending you don't know who I am?!"

"Because I don't!"

Kanda reeled back and then forward, holding Lavi by the expensive scruff of his overlarge jacket so that he couldn't pull away. "You're a Bookman, idiot. Bookman don't forget!"

"Then maybe you've got the wrong guy!"

No. Kanda _couldn't_ have the wrong guy. He'd hated that face for way too long to mistake it for someone else's. He'd watched it make all sorts of annoying expressions in all manner of situations – even if it had only ever been with one eye. "Che. If you don't remember, what the fuck made you forget? The things you said… the things you did…"

Lavi's mouth, yes, it was Lavi's mouth now that Kanda could see it that close, started to move almost too rapidly to follow. But there wasn't any sound. There was just the movement. The swordsman fingers on his blade felt weak and cold; he couldn't hold Mugen up or straight for some reason. Something was wrong. The _wrongness_ soon blossomed into pain in the back of Kanda's neck and there, on Lavi's face, an expression of genuine relief.

"_Wait!"_ Kanda made out the word on the redhead's lips. _"Don't kill him!"_

The Japanese boy would have clenched his hand on Mugen's hilt and turned on the person behind him, whoever or whatever it was, but he couldn't. He couldn't even breathe. There were more questions than there were answers, there always had been, only now not even the questions mattered. Even if Lavi didn't remember, even if Lavi didn't come home there were other, more important things that should have come out of Kanda's mouth at the moment of their reunion.

_You idiot,_ he thought, damning his numb hands and unfocused vision. _I didn't forget _you_…_

-- -- --

Since the morning the two of them had shared completely – the morning Tyki had taken Lavi and then laid with him afterward, telling him every name and face and button that he remembered – almost three months had gone by. They hadn't fought or bickered, they hadn't had the trouble they had before with anger and fear and bloodstained shirts. When Tyki came home covered in the gory spoils of war, Lavi sat with him and memorized the names before helping him to wash away the ash and blood splattered clothes.

They were happy. The two of them, despite everything, were happy when it was only them and as much honesty as there could be between two people. If Lavi remembered anything, he didn't speak of it but for in his dreams, clinging to the man he had beside him every night and every morning – the man he claimed to love.

The days went by in a steady stream of kisses and assignments, confessions and nightmares, until life felt as normal and unchanging as it had ever been. As long as Tyki stayed at Lavi's side and explained where he went in the daylight hours and didn't bring the redhead with him to family dinners, everything could always remain at peace.

It took those months for Tyki to become comfortable with the idea of Lavi going off for groceries on his own again, even without Bernadette around, even with his Akuma focused on the Exorcists that had all but disappeared in the area. It had become something of waiting game between the Noah and his enemies, a game that Tyki did not want to end unless absolutely necessary, a game in which he couldn't even guess the motive of the other players. There was no Innocence here – not for miles and miles and oceans – and even if it would be a strategic point at which to keep soldiers, there wasn't much more than a handful of townspeople and the occasional city. When it came to creating weapons or having resources, almost the entire island was useless to the Black Order.

So when Tyki finally sent Lavi on his merry way, he followed the redhead at a block's distance, praying that there weren't black coats running around looking for the two of them.

It wasn't until they were just across the street from the local bakery – a building composed mostly of yellow pine and windows – that he let the apprentice Bookman take the lead by more than that, and he swiftly came to regret it. While the Noah was losing himself in his lover's habitually limping gait – the ankle didn't hurt anymore, but it was still weak – a man that Tyki should have been able to place from a mile away in a storm approached the younger man. The drape of restrained ebony hair, the cool onyx eyes, there was no mistaking any of it. Especially not the sword that hung in the boy's right hand, a blatant threat to them all.

For a brief moment, Tyki hesitated. He _had_ followed Lavi without asking. There was always a chance that the redhead would take offense. The thought held him in place for only a few moments.

And then the swordsman – who should have been blind by all rights – was dragging the redhead into an alley. Tyki didn't think about it then. He simply followed.

"Why are you pretending you don't know who I am?!"

"Because I don't!"

"You're a Bookman, idiot. Bookman don't forget!"

"Then maybe you've got the wrong guy!"

"Che. If you don't remember, what the fuck made you forget? The things you said… the things you did…"

By then, just as Lavi was beginning to take on the look of a hapless victim, his mouth forming words that had no meaning, Tyki threw himself out of the darkness and sank his fingers into the Asian boy's skull. He didn't pay much attention to what he touched, nor did he pull anything out but blood with his fingers – but enough damage was done to bring the Exorcist to his knees, his breath choked, blood oozing from his left nostril. Humans were fragile – even the kind that could grow their eyes back, it seemed.

Even as the long haired boy slumped against the pavement in a useless heap, Lavi was left staring up at Tyki, fear and uncertainty evident in his features for the first time in more than two months. The redhead didn't go to the Noah, however, nor did he burst into tears. He went to his knees; instead, pulling the other boy's Innocence into his hands with shaking fingers. "He knows me…" Lavi whispered, and he wound his fingers around the sleeping sword's hilt with unpracticed grace. "And now he'll never wake up. Even though… there are so many things that I could ask him."

Tyki watched the apprentice Bookman sheath the weapon, watched him gather it against his chest. Why was Tyki waiting? Why wasn't he reaching out to destroy it immediately?

Because Lavi made it look so sentimental.

"Lavi—"

"I know."

The Noah never would have anticipated that Lavi would turn away, the shadows of the buildings around them obscuring his features only enough to make his smile seem less than confident. But the smile wasn't a lie. Even if it was a little strained and crooked, the boy wanted to smile at him. The light in his mismatched green eyes and the way his lips lifted just a little more on the right than on the left – Tyki wanted to reach out and pull Lavi against him. The boy was so understanding, had grown so good at ignoring the Portuguese man's sins, that Tyki wasn't sure he deserved that kind of devotion.

"I'll see you at home, alright?" Lavi chimed almost pleasantly. "I'll keep a hold of this. I don't even know his name but… if I remember…" He shook his head almost wistfully. "I'll go shopping. Don't follow me anymore!" And this time he waved, genuinely, the shock of his hair burning like a flick of ember in the shadowy light.

Tyki waved back and waited for him to go, the sounds of the boy's uneven footfalls echoing down the walk.

At his feet, the swordsman took in a shuddering breath and twitched inward, unsteady fingers coming up to rest on the back of his neck.

"Well…" Tyki mused aloud. "Just what am I going to do with you, Princess?"

-- -- --

**Yes, it ends there. And yes, this chapter was rather eventful again. The pace is rather fast to me. Is it to you? Is that bad?**

**Thanks for reading and reviewing! I hope to see you all in the next chapter!**


	14. Midnight Butterfly

**Hello. This update is filled with horrible plot development and a healthy does of sex and assumption. Somethings might be proved impossible in the future. And some people might hate me by the end of this fic. I thought that you should all be warned.**

**Also, as if I hadn't been doing enough already, I've started to play this fic-bingo game over at AssHat Productions. I'm thinking of posting all of the stories I do for my first bingo card under one title and write pairings and whatnot in the author's note at the beginning of each ficlette. Look for it in the future if you'd like to see the terrifyingly crackish things Niamh can come up with.**

**Disclaimer: I own absolutely no one in this chapter. As there are no OC's living. I don't own D. Gray-man. The only thing I own is this freakish plot thing that's running wild.**

**WARNINGS: Blood and gore. Emoness. Sex. UKE TYKI. What feels like the fastest lemon of my life.**

–

Chapter Fourteen: Midnight Butterfly

--

"Stop eating my peas."

"But they're cold. You said they're gross when they're cold."

Link – who was sitting up unsupported for what seemed like the first time in a very long while – narrowed his eyes at the British Exorcist in front of him, an expression that took maybe four years off of his age and as well as lowering his level of maturity. He could have made that face more, actually, because it made him seem less like a stick in the mud and more like a human cast into a situation he simply did not enjoy. "I hope you choke on my much needed nourishment, then." He added, and turned his head away toward the window.

The sky outside was nearing sundown, which meant at any moment Allen would be called away by Kanda and the two of them would have to continue their bickering when he came back. And by then, Link would have forgotten what the fight was over – his short-term memory hadn't recovered completely just yet – and they would have to start again at why Allen had been out of the room in the first place. For now, the light played in lilac and silver shadows through the white cotton drapes, bleeding golden drops across the white tile floor, and Allen watched Link watch the lights, disconcerted by the way the assistant Inspector seemed mesmerized by their movements. Link was better, at least, now that his brain wasn't swelling every other time he moved his head. Now, it was just the time it took for his memory to become reliable and his skull to finish knitting together like it had been before it had collided with a train track.

In the meantime, he looked sad in the cold light.

Allen sighed and put down the plate of mostly cold vegetables. He couldn't eat when he thought about how stagnant he had become, how easy it would be for him to be in the exact same situation as Link was at the moment, unable to do anything but _wait._ Not that Allen wasn't waiting. But he didn't _have_ to. Any day now they were going to be told that they could take Link back to headquarters where Allen would get a new bodyguard, and then they'd be out in the world again, searching for Innocence.

And Lavi would still be here. Potentially in the hands of Tyki Mikk.

A violent urge welled in Allen's chest. Tyki Mikk. It was true that he wanted to save the Noah – all of them – but at the same time, now, he didn't. Not that one. Not Pleasure. If he saw Tyki face-to-face and the Portuguese man had harmed Lavi at all…

But it was bad to think that way. It was wrong. Murder was wrong. He couldn't think that way.

"I think…" Link said softly, their fight from before likely forgotten for the moment. "I might try to walk tomorrow." His face turned oddly to the right, which sent his loose hair falling around his shoulders beneath the bandage that padded the upper part of his forehead. He was quiet again, his eyes lifted toward Allen, and a strange look spread across his features. "You stopped eating them?"

Allen felt himself try to smile. "You asked me not to. And Kanda will call soon."

Link nodded, turned away. "He always does."

-- -- --

Lavi took his time buying things, but he made it home before Tyki. That was good. He had time enough to put everything away and still look at the sword he had taken from what might have at one time qualified as a fallen comrade, and find a safe place to keep it. The blade itself was familiar to him, somehow, but he knew that he couldn't wield it with any sort of grace or efficiency. He didn't feel any latent power within it, any tingle of energy, or any indicator that it was made of some holy substance or special in any way. It felt like a perfectly balanced katana, heavy, but not to the point of making it awkward, and perfectly sharp. Why the blade was black Lavi couldn't imagine. Why the braided tassel that hung off the butt made him want to smile, he couldn't fathom.

So he tucked it away behind the bookshelf he had almost pulled onto himself that day he had woken in need of the bathroom. It fit rather snuggly, but it didn't make the shelf stick out awkwardly like he feared it might have, and it didn't set it off kilter. Lavi didn't think about why he wanted to hide it – or who from – but it felt like his own little secret somehow. His own possession now that he had it. The only thing in the house he truly owned.

He tried not to think about it while he waited for Tyki to come back. He tried not to think about how that girl had pulled him into that alley dead set on finding out where he had been. Had he known her? Had they been close? And her voice… did it take practice to sound like that as a woman? At first he had thought it was a women, then he had thought a man just because of how _strong _the stranger had been, but really, it was hard to tell. Lavi thought back to her features, to what he had seen of her jaw line. Her jacket had a high collar. If there was a well-hidden Adam's apple in all of that pretty and soft and angles and madness, he hadn't had the chance to imprint it on his memory. Lavi could envision her hair, all black silk and shadows, and those dark-yet-bright eyes that didn't really have a definite color, but he couldn't pull her neck into focus.

Not that it mattered now. She was dead. Headless or something. And he'd never see her again.

Lavi had left her there knowing that. Lavi had accepted it. Because it was the only way that he could stay with Tyki.

That didn't make him feel any less guilty for doing it.

The redhead made his way into the kitchen, rubbing at his face with the back of his hand. His limp didn't even bother him for the walk, the distance too short to put much strain on the bones in his ankle. Still, he sank into a chair and rested his face on his hands, his thoughts a horrible muddle of emotions and fears, none of them as tangible as the weight that filled his stomach like a rock that was too big to get out somehow.

The memories came less often now, but they hit him harder. There were things he was sure of – his name, his birthday, his purpose to record and understand things, that he had been with a person in the past that he loved very much – but the details still felt vague and hollow when he compared them to what he had now. He felt that where he was now, what he had done, how he had walked away, wasn't something he would have done in the past. Letting someone die sounded worse than dying himself.

"I guess…" Lavi mumbled, and pulled his feet up into his chair so he could wrap his arms around his legs and press his face into his knees. "That I'm just as evil as he is now, when it comes down to it."

He didn't hear the door. He only closed his eyes and sighed at the press of warm, blood scented arms pulling him back into a warm embrace.

-- -- --

The long-haired, foul-mouthed Exorcist simply refused to die. Small wounds, ones that bled and oozed and broke bones, didn't heal very quickly at all. In fact, Tyki wouldn't have realized what was going on if he hadn't gone for the boy's insides, thinking it the fastest way to get what he wanted. He'd crushed the boy's heart, thought the job done, and been pulled back into the alley by the sound of the young man hauling himself shakily to his feet, his right arm still twisted and broken, but his heart somehow newly intact. Tyki didn't like the thought of an immortal opponent, and he liked the idea of an immortal victim even less. Still, the third time the Exorcist recovered from what should have been a killing blow, panting and shaking, his right eye destroyed from hitting the brick wall with his face, Tyki knew that he couldn't let him go back to the Order and tell them where Lavi was. Because of that, and despite how much Tyki _liked_ to watch the Japanese boy crumble at little more than a touch, Tyki was bored of waiting for the Exorcist to run out of whatever was keeping him alive.

In the end, Tyki could only think of one solution, and it wasn't one he much liked, either.

But what else could he do? He couldn't lose Lavi. He couldn't let his family have this Exorcist (was his name Lambda? No… Kanda?) for fear that Lavi's presence would be taken as a threat to the safety of them all. What could he logically do besides be sure that that didn't happen?

The sun had more or less set by the time Tyki dragged and phased the long-haired boy into the cellar, ignoring the sound of tearing cloth and popping bone. It would heal if what Tyki knew about the boy was true. And it hardly mattered anyway, the Exorcist wasn't cursing or fighting back much anymore; Tyki doubted he felt the pain as keenly as he had those first few times he had died.

In the dark, cold, damp air of the cellar, the scent of blood fought with the scent of mildew and wet dirt. What remained of the sunlight was choked out by too many years of grime on the small windows, turned to a dim glow that wouldn't be nearly enough to see the entirety of the room with. Tyki didn't, however, need to see the entirety of the room. He dropped his burden at the far side of the cellar, next to the water main. It took him a short circle around the area to find that there was nothing worth picking up before he returned to the Exorcist's side and yanked a long strip off of his torn coat, then bent to wind it between the boy's wrists.

It struck Tyki as he secured the fabric to the pipe without much trouble that this Exorcist was maybe Lavi's age, far less fragile, and a lot more dangerous.

And the Exorcist was laughing at him. Laughing a mirthless, crackling sort of laugh, the bloodied side of his face pressed to the pipe next to his wrists. Tyki didn't understand what was so funny, exactly.

"Wha's wrong, Noah?" The boy croaked and slurred at him, voice little more than a forced whisper. "Aren't you goin' to kill me?"

Tyki narrowed his eyes at the Exorcist. It didn't matter if this one knew Lavi. Lavi understood that. The Noah of Pleasure held no pity for his enemies. It was simply a matter of having nothing else to do with him, and the fact that Lavi was waiting, likely brooding over his decision, fixated with the idea that he had just turned his back on what had been a comrade. The thought made Tyki want to laugh back, but he didn't. "Humans aren't immortal, Exorcist. But I can't seem to kill you." Tyki turned his head to the side, almost like he was trying to be friendly. "If you tell me how, it will save us all a lot of time and suffering, won't it?"

This time, the Exorcist didn't laugh. Instead, he rolled his eyes with forced intent, as if just the movement could explain his thoughts on Tyki's intelligence. "Che. I can't die." He said rather plainly.

"Everyone can die."

"And you think I'd tell you if I knew how I could?"

Tyki shook his head, unable to fight his expression any longer. "If you don't want to be down here for only God knows how long—"

"He doesn't." The Exorcist bit out almost bitterly. "If you're going to leave me here then get out. I don't want your company."

A nerve? God was a nerve in a boy who served the Church? Tyki found that interesting. He would have to think about it in the time he wasn't thinking about what he could pull out of the swordsman's chest without watching him crawl back up for more. For the moment, Tyki ran a bloody hand through his hair and turned away. It was enough for one day. The Exorcist wasn't going to pull himself free, break the lock, and find Lavi while Tyki was sleeping. And it wasn't as if there was any chance of Lavi finding him – Tyki was relatively sure the redhead didn't even know they had a cellar.

"Oi." It was a soft protest just as the Portuguese man reached the stairs, just enough to make him pause with one foot on the dirt floor, the other on the stone step. The light from above was nothing but a sheet of white silver that illuminated nothing to the Noah – a new moon, if he could guess by that alone. "If you hurt him…"

Tyki looked back at the mostly dark room and the one, shining eye in the moonlight, reflecting almost inhumanly back at him. There was blood and dirt and far too many bruises on that face, but Tyki understood what was meant even without seeing the swordsman's expression. "I couldn't, even if I wanted to."

The Noah left then, up the stairs and into the night. He locked the door behind him – just a simple lock, but it would be enough – then turned back toward the house, to the light that meant that someone was likely in the kitchen. He didn't feel guilty for what he had done. He wouldn't tell Lavi, though. It would be easier if the apprentice Bookman thought that it was over and done with. It would be better that way, in the end.

"I must really love him," Tyki mumbled to himself, starting toward the door. "Enough to start keeping pets, at least."

-- -- --

Kanda hadn't called.

And he hadn't answered.

Allen lay with the blue-white sheet pulled up to his chin, feeling cold and alone despite the fact that he had been given a cot in the corner of Link's room to sleep on. He wanted to go back to the inn and see if maybe Kanda's golem had gotten lost and flown there or something, but he couldn't leave while Link was sleeping. He couldn't leave at all. And the fact that Tim was curled up next to his shoulder, being cold and friendly like a little metallic animal wasn't helping his thoughts at all. In the last few months, Allen had begun to look forward to when the little golem told him that Kanda was calling, that he would be able to hear the older boy's voice for just a few minutes, just a few insults. But now…

Now, the sun had been down for almost two hours and Kanda hadn't called even to say he was breathing.

The white-haired teen rolled onto his side and wrapped his arms around himself, looking at the wall. It was white, just like it had been the night before, and he hated it for being so blank and indifferent. He was lonely. He was cold. And they didn't feed him enough here unless he filched from Link's plate.

"Damn it." He hissed under his breath, and hunched forward. He didn't need to be worrying about Lavi _and_ Kanda. Not right now. Even if it was cold. And if Lavi had been there, the redhead would have hugged him in that too-close-to-be-friendly-but-not-to-be-family way. And if Kanda had been there, maybe Allen could have talked him into climbing up on the cot and sharing heat. Shirtless. Or naked. Oh. Naked. Kanda naked…

Allen felt heat suffuse his body at the thought and shivered, hating himself for fantasizing and loving his mental image of the swordsman wearing nothing but a glare. It was strange to think of someone he knew, and even stranger for that person to be male, stupid, and annoying beyond all reason. But the worst part of it, the most horrible part, was that Allen really didn't give a damn how strange it was, not really.

"Call, damn you." Allen muttered, and let his right hand slip from around himself and against the mattress. "Call."

-- -- --

Tyki smeared red hand prints across Lavi's shoulders, but the apprentice Bookman didn't mind, not really. He laughed about it as he turned to face the older man, smiling one of those sad, thoughtful smiles, both of his eyes slatted with the expression. He was as bright as he had ever been, even dimmed with guilt and fear.

The Noah didn't let his thoughts wander to the swordsman's Innocence. Instead, he took Lavi in his arms and pressed his face into the redhead's hair, breathing in his scent. "I'm sorry I followed you today." He whispered, and sighed at the feeling of the younger man's hands taking a hold of his shirt and pulling it a little out of his pants. The touch of fingers on his skin was a thousand times more reassuring than it should have been.

"It's okay," Lavi said very softly into Tyki's collar bone. "If you hadn't, that girl mighta killed me."

"Girl?"

"Yeah. I think. Never mind." Lavi tilted his face to the side until it rested on Tyki's shoulder. "God, all I did was walk away and I feel… I don't even know what I feel. It's just…" He slipped his arms completely around Tyki's frame as he tapered off, smiling wanly. "I'm sorry. It's not as if I think you've done something wrong, but I feel…"

"It's alright, Lavi." Tyki whispered just between them, and placed his bloodied right hand between the younger man's shoulder blades, pulling him closer. "It's different when you do it yourself. It's different… when you might have known the person. We don't have to talk about it, not if you don't want to." The Noah almost sighed with relief when Lavi nodded into him. Almost. "I should wash up a little."

The redhead made a little negative sound in the back of his throat. "Don't worry about it. We can take baths later. Right now, it's not important. Instead, do you think we could just be together for a little? Like this? I don't know what I want right now, but it feels good to have you close to me…" Lavi tightened his hold, and turned his face up toward Tyki's. "Because I know that no matter who I helped, I did it so I can stay with you."

Tyki didn't know what came over him, but the kiss that followed seemed terribly like it hadn't been his idea alone. It was swift and needy, but it wasn't his own bloodlust that fueled the fire between them. This time, when the redhead pulled them flush, moving like there was an emotion about to break free of him like a flood bursting through a dam, Tyki let himself be guided and pushed against the table. It struck him when Lavi continued to push that maybe, the redhead was just a little bit too eager to get whatever he wanted.

"Up." Lavi whispered, and then kissed again, harder than before, encouraging Tyki to lift himself onto the table with the word. When the Noah slid himself onto the surface, the boy followed him with one knee, his hands firmly planted on Tyki's shoulders. "Back…"

"We might break the table, Lavi."

"And you might have to be quiet." The apprentice Bookman answered without losing focus on the curve of Tyki's throat. "You've always want me after you kill someone, so why can't I want you after I do, too?" He chuckled dryly, an uncharacteristically grim smile spreading across his lips. "I don't think it's the same though. Is it survival for you? Or do you get off on killing people? I did it so I can protect you from what I was, I think, so I want you because of that. It's not as fucked up a reason as the others, but…" He stopped and met Tyki's gaze for a moment, the smile from just a moment ago abandoned for an expression that seemed much more honest, the boy's eyes confused and frightened. "I _need_ you right now, Tyki. Even if we just curl up on this table naked, I don't want to wait long enough to get to the bedroom."

The Noah nodded and pulled the younger man closer, leaning back gingerly, testing the wood with one hand before he put his weight across it. They didn't have a centerpiece, and Tyki had a bit more height than the table had length, so the Noah found himself relatively comfortable with his head tilted back, feet dangling off of the edge of the wood. In just a moment, Lavi was leaning over him, his serious eyes betrayed by a playful quirk of his lips.

"If you think that this will make you feel better, Lavi, then by all means, the olive oil is in the cabinet behind you." Tyki reached up and buried a hand in the redhead's hair. It was still as soft as silk and twice as thick, the perfect texture, pleasant, yet strong. Tyki wanted only a little to close his fingers and pull the boy's head back, but he didn't. "However, it might be better if you thought about the force of gravity before we get much farther along than—"

"If it breaks you can catch us."

"In a moment of heated passion?"

"I…suppose."

Tyki thought only of how utterly adorable it was that Lavi blushed while he said those words. The Noah did tighten his grip in the boy's hair then, pulling it a little bit less than gently backward, tilting Lavi's neck toward him. "Are you sure you want to?"

"Yes." The word was a heavy whisper, but the playful expression hadn't changed at all. "Even if there's a chance you'll break your ribs and we'll need new furniture."

"Then by all means." Tyki replied just as softly, tugging the redhead's neck still nearer to his lips. "I'm all yours, Lavi."

The redhead bent his head forward despite the pull of Tyki's fingers in his hair until their lips just hardly brushed, a breath between them. The boy stayed as he was, leaning on his right arm, his left hand pressed to the fabric of Tyki's shirt. The handprints that had been left on Lavi's shoulders were more brown than red in the overhead light. "You're… sure you're okay with me being…on you, Tyki?"

The Portuguese man rolled his eyes a little, grinning from the corner of his mouth. Though he had the inkling feeling that he had forgotten something important, he pushed that from his mind and focused on the way the redhead was looking at him, at just how silly the boy was under all of his determination. "Yes. You remember who I am, Lavi?"

"Tyki Mikk?"

"…and?"

"The Noah of Pleasure?"

"Ah. There you have it. Now, if you're going to kiss me…" Tyki smiled into the press of lips against his own, at the little, unthinking moan in the back of Lavi's throat. The redhead was so good and sweet, so thoughtless, and yet perfect. And he was commanding, this time. The boy drew himself up so that a hand rested on either side of Tyki's head, though that quickly turned to elbows so they might kiss with better efficiency, and pressed his weight almost demandingly onto the man beneath him. Tyki hummed encouragingly, lifted a hand to touch the round of Lavi's shoulder.

The redhead took the older man's hand and pressed it to the table. Lavi's fingers were cool in Tyki's palm. The way they moved, the way those fingers curled with the movement of their kiss, made the Noah want to squeeze them reassuringly. Instead, he lifted his left knee until the length of his thigh pressed to the boy's backside and tilted his own hips a little, trying to be encouraging.

_"Tyki?"_ Lavi hardly whispered the name, his forehead momentarily pressed to the Noah's. "You know… I've been meaning to tell you that…" He leaned in again as if pulled by a string that connected their lips, too strong for him to fight. When he pulled away, he cheeks were softly flushed, the line of his mouth slightly frowning. "The more I think about it, the more I know that there was someone before you. And it worries me. I know that when all of this started I was supposed to be objective – neutral, as you put it – and that means that whoever came before you made me _not _that way. And I know it doesn't matter right now, but if I remember and I still feel like I did bef—"

"This is just like anything else, Lavi." Tyki forced himself to smile through the fear that Lavi was right. "I will always love you. If it comes to that… I can only hope that whatever you do makes you happy."

The redhead smiled a little crookedly, eyes sparkling with a thousand little mischievous things, none of them nearly as serious as his words had just been. "And being quiet and getting on with it would make us both happy right now, wouldn't it?" He questioned almost rhetorically, and bent his head to the task, kissing at the line of Tyki's jaw. From there, Lavi moved up to the older man's lips while his left hand started on the Noah's shirt buttons, undoing them with practiced ease. His fingers didn't even tremble or falter – they moved in a straight, precise line down Tyki's chest, then gently parted the fabric over the Noah's breast.

Gently, Lavi laid his mouth on the scar that ran down Tyki's left side, blinking at it as if seeing through it. "It's so perfect…" Lavi whispered, his lips moving over the skin in warm, breathy lines. "Every part of your body, I mean. These scars," his fingers tickled along the line of the one beside his face, "the lay of your hair, the way you hold your breath a little when I touch you…" His eyes fluttered closed, the almost burgundy flurry of his eyelashes dancing against the ivory of his cheeks. "God, I bet I could work myself into a frenzy just thinking about the things we could do…"

His hand stopped and his lips parted just enough to allow Lavi to pull the nub of Tyki's nipple into his mouth, lapping it with tongue and grazing it with teeth alike.

Tyki found himself wanting to touch the redhead, wanting to push his face lower. But he knew that it would only get his hands pressed to the tabletop again, and likely force Lavi to slide off the table or fall. So he arched his back a little and turned his face away, hooding his eyes to the light. The response he got was a low vibrating growl in the back of Lavi's throat.

A hand that Tyki wasn't at all expecting slipped between his legs and pressed the black, rough fabric of his pants against him, the shape of the palm and fingers on the other side of the material warm and forceful. It was rare that Tyki felt something like that – something so sure in what it wanted – and the fact that that hand belong to the young man he had come to love was enough to bring his arms upward despite that he half-thought they would be pushed away.

Even if it was only the slightest bit of foreplay, the tiniest hint of what the redhead was capable off, it was enough to make the Noah want so much more.

"Lavi—"

"It's fine, I never meant that you couldn't touch me."

"—you could take the pants off rather than molesting me through them."

The boy looked up at that, his eyebrows drawn high on his forehead. "Am I _that_ good?"

Tyki snorted. "No, but you're very convincing."

"That makes me sound like a polite rapist."

"God, no." Tyki shuddered at little at the fingers against him grew suddenly tighter, and paused for a moment while he tried to recall what words had been waiting to come out of his mouth. "Lavi…"

This time, the apprentice Bookman smiled. With speed that was just slow enough to make the movement seem sensual, Lavi pushed himself to his knees and arched his back in the effort to divest himself of his shirt. The action exposed a goodly portion of his stomach for a moment before the garment was gone – baring shoulders and chest. Tyki traced a line from the small, white-pink scars on the boy's left side to the place that the metal rod had come through the boy's shoulder. Lavi, even with those little marks, was perfect, too.

With a breathy sound of desire, Tyki met the kiss that Lavi bent to give him, tugging at the boy's belt and pants as he did. They came loose rather easily, but pulling them down Lavi's hips proved rather ineffective. Tyki tried not to be distracted by the press of Lavi's mouth or the tangle of fingers in his hair or the palm still wrapped around his clothed length. It was a complex balance, but he found himself rewarded when the apprentice Bookman pressed himself naked against the older man's clothed frame, a sly smile taking the boy's lips.

"Like this, I feel like I'm worried about nothing." Lavi admitted in a whisper. He pulled for a moment at Tyki's pants, just until they were open. "You know?"

"Yes." Tyki agreed at once, and lifted his hips enough to assist in pushing away his pants. He had never been more thankful for taking off his shoes at the door, nor had he ever been less thankful for the cool, polished wood that composed his kitchen table. The wood pressed against him was a chilly reminder just how warm the body above him really was. But he couldn't think about any of that – not while Lavi was saying things to him and teasing finger-trails along his thighs at the same time. "Like this," Tyki went on breathily, "it's hard to imagine anything that would change us, isn't it?"

The redhead nodded. "Helps that you're so fucking _hot_, though…" Lavi tilted his head up as if he hadn't meant for those words to come out of his mouth, and cracked a crooked smile. "Can I start with the interesting part?"

The Noah nodded.

It took quite a bit to make the Noah of Pleasure blush. It took even more to make him turn his face away and close his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose, focusing on the sensations running through his skin. The feel of Lavi's fingers tracing nonexistent patterns on his thighs and a palm smoothing over the skin of his left hip was enough. Perhaps the thrill of uncertainty and the tickle of embarrassment all stemmed from the same, pleasant source, or perhaps it came from something entirely masochistic and inhuman. Tyki did not particularly care. He only embraced the emotion that welled in his chest, laced his fingers in Lavi's hair and pulled the redhead into a kiss. The little touches that tested him and prodded encouragement made him smile into the heat of the boy's lips. The exquisite caress of tongue against Tyki's alerted him to what small thing the two of them were missing. He pushed Lavi away ever so gently, a small smile on his heated lips.

"Oil – lotion – something—"

"One more kiss. Or two. Or a bajilliony-hundred and five—"

"Lavi..."

The redhead got his kiss, long and hard, almost bruising. There was fire in him that hadn't been there. Bloodlust, maybe, put likely not. In any case, he didn't complain about the dried blood on both of them, the smell of it thick in the air, heavy like perfume. Instead, Lavi pulled away with a meaningful, deep look to his eyes and a long trembling breath before he dismounted from the table and made for the cabinet behind him, fingertips dragging over the copper handles with deliberate slowness. Everything Lavi did was seductive for an instant while he pulled down a bottle of terribly abused olive oil.

Tyki pushed himself up enough to tilt his head to the side and smile at the younger man, his mussed and gore crusted hair falling into his eyes before he shook it away with a chuckle. He didn't need to explain the sound. He needed only to let his eyelids fall to half-mast and lift a hand in his lover's direction, indicating the curve of the redhead's spine with his fingers. "Pet..."

The redhead in question gave him a thin-lipped smile before his eyes turned dark with some distant, distracting memory. "Don't call me that." He whispered, with quiet melancholy in his eyes and a terrifyingly sweet edge to his voice. "Just Lavi."

The Noah nodded. If it wasn't enough to require more than a moment's pause, it wasn't worth stopping over. Instead, he let his hand fall once again to the cool wood of the table, which he thumped lightly with his fingers. "Then please, Just Lavi," Tyki showed his teeth along with his enthusiasm, "don't stand in the middle of my kitchen gawking forever."

"I never planned to."

After that, they came together again gingerly, to avoid bruising each other on their hastily chosen berth. Moaning, Lavi managed to open the bottle of oil with little difficulty and prop Tyki's left leg over his own right, the redhead's entire body bent over the older man so he might still look Tyki in the face. It couldn't have been too comfortable, bending so far without aid, but Lavi didn't complain. He buried one hand in Tyki's hair while the other placed the upright bottle on the tabletop.

"Ever done it this way before?" Lavi let his hand card the Noah's hair before he took the bottle in two hands, wetting the right one.

Tyki thought for a moment about how he should phrase his response. How exactly did one explain being the Noah of Pleasure? "The short answer, disregarding the convoluted rejection of lovers and changing of lives, is yes."

"Oh. Say that word again."

"Lovers?"

"Convoluted. God, that's sexy..."

The Portuguese man laughed and tilted his hips upward, winding a finger in the boy's neck hair. With a tremulous sigh, Tyki watched Lavi's rather certain right hand move between his thighs, then pause. The hesitation passed without word. Flesh touched flesh with teasing unsureness, circling, sliding, slick, and sensitive on Tyki's skin. It took nothing more than a thought for the Noah to relax to the touch. The pressure that followed was just as easily ignored – he remembered and he understood, and he trusted Lavi in ways that he couldn't even explain. It felt a bit invasive, a bit out of the ordinary to say the least, but that did not make him slow or stop the younger man or even worry the Noah. He couldn't worry. Not when he could feel how Lavi breathed and could see how Lavi looked at him, like the world would end if even a breath separated them at the moment.

"Convoluted." Tyki whispered, hooding his eyes to the light burning sensation where Lavi touched him. "Conundrum, transgression—"

"Oh... that one's good, too."

"Diversion—"

"Hm."

"Saccharine."

A soft, breathy moan seeped its way through Lavi's parted lips. "If you say sacrosanct and ambivalent, I might just finish before we get anywhere." He breathed, and his right hand came up glistening in the kitchen light. Tyki didn't need to watch where it went to know what was next, to feel the quiet anticipation building in his chest and in his gut. It was the redhead's eyes that the Portuguese man focused on, twin, mismatched gems set in an expression of yearning.

Tyki moved his palms to Lavi's hips and pulled him in.

It should have been too fast to be comfortable, it should have been too swift and too awkward when Lavi had only the ghost of a skeleton of a memory to follow the pattern of. But it wasn't. The movement was fluid and straining, like water striking the wall of a dam and lashing it, over and over again, without loosing momentum. The Noah, shuddering, a breath of a name on his lips, met Lavi's mouth with aching surety, every inch of him demanding more. He did not need to think or wonder or fight or hope. For the moment, with his arms wrapped around Lavi's frame and the boy telling him to wait for his own sake, Tyki could be nothing but as human as he had ever been. It was refreshing after the day, after the boy with the sword, after the blood, the death, and Lavi's seeming inability to remain in the same mood for more than a few moments. The harshness was balanced by the desire for tenderness, and that balanced by the need for his teeth to touch the apprentice Bookman's neck.

As Tyki bit down, lifted his hips, and groaned at the feel of Lavi matching him with faltering movements, his mind went back to the cellar, and to the words that made the blood on his lips all the sweeter.

_'Don't hurt him.'  
'I couldn't. Even if I wanted to.'_

There had never been a truer lie. But hurting and killing, lovemaking and kissing – did they not go hand in hand? Was it not the same as fuel consumed in flame? All of the passion he felt, would it not build until one day he would be so full of desire and pleasure that he would press his hand into his lovers chest and pull out his heart?

_'Don't hurt him.'  
'I couldn't.'_

_'I couldn't.'_

_'I couldn't.'_

_I want to._

"Oh..._God_..." Lavi's shaking voice broke on the last word, his body shivered with ill repressed yearning. "You're so _good_ at... Tyki..." He must have lost his train on of thought. His free hand – Tyki could not see which was holding the boy up and which wasn't – caught the edge of the Noah's shoulder and pulled them closer, pulled Lavi's chest into Tyki's. "Hold..."

Tyki wound his arms around the smaller man's frame and did as he was told, holding the redhead as tightly as his distracted muscles would allow. The fire that burned in his abdomen was nearly enough, given their closeness, to draw a word of warning from the Portuguese man's lips.

"Lavi—"

The apprentice Bookman almost mewled at him, almost begged – the sound came out like a strangled word that somehow conveyed warning. Tyki understood perfectly. He met every movement of Lavi's body with as much desperation as he could feel in the younger man, feeling that perhaps there was fire inside of him, willing its way toward Lavi. Tyki's eyes closed. This closeness, with his arms around Lavi and the boy inside of him and so many, many sensations running through his body, made the moment sear into his memory – he never wanted to forget. Reality, the swordsman, none of that had any bearing on their proximity.

Only he couldn't think straight anymore. The thoughts and worries left him in little more than a breath. The light above them, Lavi – _Lavi_ – what else could there be in the world? They were moving too hard and too fast for him to think beyond that, and their tempo seemed set on only increasing for the moment. He willed it to. He met every thrust and glide of his lover's hips, and tasted blood on his lips. Lavi's blood. Salty and sweet perfection. Tyki shuddered and arched away from the table, holding back, pulling down, losing it.

The rush was impossible for him to describe, predicted, but surprising. The release itself left him in a wave of pleasure and tension, prying open his mouth so a meaningless sound of desire might seep from it. The surprise was how Lavi bent into him, the redhead's fingernails dug into the Noah's skin and held him more or less in place while he slammed with wood-creaking intensity into the older man. It was almost animalistic, if not for the words that fell so carelessly from the apprentice Bookman's mouth.

"...I love... but..." It was a panting, gasping, horrified whisper, those words. "Tyki!"

But? The word didn't matter. Tyki simply held on to Lavi, still meeting him halfway, draining them both for all their lovemaking was worth. Their slow finish left the Noah breathless and sweating, which in turn alerted him to how very cold the kitchen was as well as how warm Lavi's skin had become. He relaxed against the wooden table all the same, his tired, shaking hands pressed to the tangles of Lavi's sweaty hair.

The boy didn't speak for a time, catching his breath. The fact that the two of them were wound together like some sort of artistically sexual centerpiece in the middle of the kitchen table did not seem to bother him in the slightest. After a long, silent minute, Lavi sighed and lifted himself to his hands, looking down at the older man with tired eyes. "I think... I might be able to make it to the bed now. If you can."

Tyki smiled. "I think I'm inclined to try."

– – –

The night was an unseasonably cold one. Allen woke in the middle of it from a restless dream able to see his breath in Link's hospital room, Tim – who might not have felt cold at all – snuggled very close to his side. The white-haired teen slithered and shivered his way off of his cot and eventually into the hall, taking the half-sleeping golem with him. It had to be midnight or later. The lights in the hall were almost yellow as if they lacked power somehow. No nurses greeted him when he left the room proper.

In fact, he might have been the only person alive in the whole of the building by the sound of things.

Allen had left the room intent on trying Kanda one final time. Or maybe not final. Final until the following morning. He did not get the chance to.

"Hello?" He called into the dimly lit hospital. His voice carried farther than it should have, then came back in a ghost of an echo. The air seemed colder. This wasn't right, was it? The way the lights flickered, the way Tim was a dead weight in his hand, it wasn't right at all.

And the dark figure at the end of the hall, one-eyed and blood-soaked, wasn't really there.

With a short, breathless cry of fear Allen Walker woke from a dream within a dream, sweat-drenched and panting, the covers pushed away to the foot of his bed. A dream. Just a dream. That face, _Kanda's_ face, had been a dream, an illusion. And yet, the boy realized belatedly, he had woken already sitting, the starlight streaming in from the window and across his lap.

He touched his face with his left hand for a moment, took a deep breath. He wasn't that worried. Kanda was alright, he just hadn't had the chance to call. Or he had lost his golem somehow. In any case, Allen was not gone enough to dream about the swordsman like that. In fact, the British boy had only just become comfortable having creepy dreams about himself – it was not yet time to start on someone new.

_It would be better if I just forgot all about him._

"Shut up." Allen hissed in a whisper. At his side, Tim moved as if he might have heard, but Allen ignored the golem. It wasn't unheard of that sane people might talk to themselves, was it? "Not Kanda. Leave Kanda alone."

_Leave me out of this._

The feeling that his thoughts were out of his control passed after a few seconds and Allen leaned back again, looking up at the white ceiling with thoughtful, tired eyes. Tomorrow, the moment it came, Allen would call Komui and report Kanda missing. And if that didn't work – if Komui hadn't heard from him and couldn't guess the location of his golem—

The soft beating of wings turned Allen's eyes to the window, to the sky that lacked a moon but not light. A black, bat-like thing fluttered on the sill, it's leathery wings moving in a rhythm that just barely kept in in flight. A golem. Kanda's golem. At once Allen pushed himself to his knees and threw the window open, allowing the little machine to enter with the chill night air. Even before he could question it, before he could make a suggestion as to what it meant to do by coming to him, Tim was awake and hovering just beside it as if expecting a meal.

Allen batted the golden golem away and took the black one in his hands, looking down at it's single, soulless eye with fear dancing in his own. "Take me to him."

– – –

**Oh, the plot goes on without a pause! Unless you count that sex scene (which I'm not overly proud of for some reason) as being a pause. Just a warning. Things are about to get complicated and very serious. If you read this fic for the smut, there will be more just... not right now.**

**Also, I will be going to Oregon to visit my father the 23rd through the 26th. In all likelihood, I will take my laptop and lack the proper time to work on any fiction at all.**

**Thank you for reading.**


	15. This Twilight

_Ciklola - You only ship Yullen? ONLY? That's a strong word. In fact, I don't know how you've gotten this far in a LUCKY FIC only shipping YULLEN. Anyroad, I believe that everyone is allowed to have their own opinions and favorites, however, do not insult ME. If you think one of my pairings is gross, then tell me so and give me a reason why, but do not call me names or degrade me because of what I write; it is immature and impolite. Secondly, there will not be Yullen in this fic. AreKan? Maybe. Hell if I know. That, if you didn't get the point of my note in chapter 13, is not what this story is supposed to be about. If you are so offended by my choice of pairings then you do not have to read it. Take your OTP and your fangirlhood and your uke!Allen and go read Saya-sama. Lastly, but not least importantly, I must ask that the next time you wish to speak to me you log in to ff, as replying in author's notes can take up a lot of space and also be embarrassing for you. Thank you, Niamh_

_P.S. SisterWicked said to fuck your fandom with a porcupine. She doesn't like Yullen. Or you. Or your fail choice of insults. But it's okay – she doesn't like a lot of people anyway. You shouldn't feel special._

**And now that that's over! I RETURN! I know, it's been a long time. And I know, I basically start every chapter like this, but HEY! I used to have an update schedule and I like to remind people that I no longer do. For those of you still waiting for TWS, I should be able to get it off of my laptop this week and send it to myself and then have it beta'd. Thanks for waiting. :D**

**This one is JUMPY again, but I expect the next chapter to be MAYBE 3-4 scenes altogether. Even though just as much stuff will be happening, some of it will be happening together, so don't expect the pace to fall at all, even if the scene cuts change. Or am I the only one who thinks scene cuts make stories feel faster?**

**As for this... I do not own D. Gray – Man. If I did, Lavi would be a stick figure with an eyepatch, Tyki would be a stick figure with a mole, and Kanda would be a stick figure with long girly hair. Allen... would be half of a stick figure.**

**WARNINGS: Sadism, men lovin each other, gore up the hizzy, and hints of romantic confusion.**

--

This Twilight

The stupid golem took him a town over and into an alley, but didn't show him to Kanda. There was a lot of blood, _a lot of blood_, and all of it looked brown and old in the dawn light. The liquid was splattered grotesquely against the right brick wall so the pattern was almost completely discernible – one round body part or another had struck the wall at Allen's chest before it slipped down to his feet. There, against the crease between wall and pavement, the part had left the ground again, perhaps into the other wall.

"Goddamn it, Kanda..." Allen whispered under his breath. The British Exorcist was wrapped in his coat, frost pluming before his mouth in the completely winter-like summer air. It was edging toward fall, realistically, but Allen did not give the weather much thought beyond how cold it made his right hand when it wasn't crammed into the folds of his clothes. The morning light, which should have brought warmth to his shoulders, brought forth the shine of drying blood and the stench of iron and death; no heat filled the boy even as the light seeped into the alley. There were thick shadows everywhere, places where things might have fallen or hidden. None of them harbored more than slightly colder air and more mismatched splashes of gore, more darkness than even the sun could chase away.

Allen repeated to himself that Kanda was alright. The guy could live through practically anything with the powers that came from being—

There was a pattern that didn't fit with the others, and it stole away Allen's thoughts, turned them to something else. Finger marks, rapid and almost unrecognizable, marred the stones at the base of the wall on his left, the lines arranged in the forms of half-letters. Kanda wasn't smart enough to do something like that, was he? Allen didn't think so. Hadn't thought so. But those marks, when he focused on them, were defiantly words.

"'Mikk...Lavi...'" Allen squinted, trying to make out the rest. "'No...eries... heh." A humorless chuckle split the British boy's lips. The last few words were large and completely legible, as if a wave of strength had filled the swordsman while he wrote them. "'I cannot die.'"

Tyki and Lavi really were together, somehow, that was the information that Kanda had meant to convey. But what were _eries?_ Aeries? A mountaintop bird's nest? Kanda wasn't that smart. Eris, the goddess of discord? Not that educated. And there was a long, squiggly line between that bunch of letters and the word before, as if there might have been isomething/i there.

Allen frowned. How many words were there than ended in _eries?_

If he had brought Link with him...

With a quiet self-reprimand to stop thinking backward and to start moving forward, Allen pushed himself from to his feet and began to, as difficult as it was for him, think. Kanda would never forgive him if Allen missed this just running on emotion and gut instinct. Hell, Kanda would kill him, assuming they both lived and Allen's first, illogical course of action lead to the swordsman's rescue. But thinking about that wasn't coming up with words was it? Nor was thinking about how he wasn't coming up with words.

_iUseless. I can't even think when I want t—/i_

"Shut up." He hardly whispered the phrase, but it was enough to bring a little laugh to the forefront of his mind. Allen felt his upper lip lift into a snarl. "I don't have time for you right now, so stop it. I need to find Kanda."

That was all it took for the moment. The laughter faded and a feeling of slightly uncomfortable uncertainty left in little more than the blink of an eye. Allen put a gloved hand to the brick wall beside him and leaned on it, leaned so he could feel the icy stone beneath his fingers, and he could smell the coppery scent of his comrade's blood. Life would be so much easier with Noah's powers and no memories. The lapses, the breaks in composure, the times that those memories broke out into Allen's thoughts – they were becoming more common. If there was some way to just forget them, for those irritating little electronic or chemical or magical bits of information to simply disappear—

Allen's eyes shocked open and he pushed himself back, turned to look down at the bloody message strewn at his feet. In the brightening light, the scrawl was no more or less clear than it had been only seconds ago, and yet it all made sense with that word.

"Lavi doesn't have any memories?"

– – –

Tyki had a twinging feeling that somewhere along the lines of the previous day, something very, very important had slipped his mind. It was not, however, in his nature to worry. Thus, whatever it was that he had not done or had not seen or had not killed would wait until it became more of an issue, and be dealt with at a time when the Noah was not wrapped naked around his young, softly breathing lover, a gob of red hair tucked beneath his chin.

Everything could wait. While he and Lavi were together, there could be no urgency.

It made him feel tame and mellow and a bit like he might now qualify as _monogamous_, regardless of how much he despised the idea. Well, despised the idea when it wasn't lying next to him, murmuring soft things about how the light needed to be put out because Goddamn it, no one got up until noon when they weren't on a mission. Only the light wasn't on. It was the sun peeking in the window.

Tyki shifted enough to let Lavi press into him and settle into a deeper, more relaxing sleep. Almost as soon as the boy was settled Tyki felt that he did not want to get up just yet, no matter the responsibilities of the day.

There was a prisoner to either feed or starve, depending upon many factors. There was a family to talk to and warn, if only in the broadest of terms. But in the meantime, there was a warm pair of arms around Tyki's middle and a loud snore coming from Lavi, and as much time in the world as he could ever want there to be.

Still, nature and tobacco inevitably called. With movements that made Lavi groan but did not threaten to wake him, Tyki extracted himself one limb at a time from the younger man, rolling gradually toward the edge of the bed. It was a bit like dancing, especially when the redhead made a soft negative and dragged him back to where he had been, arms like vices, fingers twisted in the bedsheets. It made Tyki chuckle ever so softly, a grin tugging up the edges of his lips.

"Lavi—"

"If I let you up you're coming back with breakfast. I refuse to skip two meals in a row outta laziness."

Tyki placed one hand in Lavi's hair and tilted the boy's head back enough to see that the apprentice Bookman's eyes were still mostly closed, slatted like half open blinds. "Forget it. You'll be asleep by the time I make anything worth eating."

"You can't make anything worth eating. Just throw something together."

"Hey..."

"I love you?" This time Lavi tilted his head out of Tyki's hand and turned so he was looking up with a half-sultry expression, the flesh of his shoulders exposed to the morning light. It was like he was daring the Noah to just go about his business and then come back again without an offering of food, that way they might be close again, naked and cool in the soft golden light. "'Sides, I'd be happy with pretty much anything that I don't have t'cook. Go, and bring me sustenance..."

Tyki shook his head. It shouldn't have amused him as much as it did that Lavi seemed prepared to nod off already. It shouldn't have filled his chest with warmth to watch that pair of perfectly green eyes slide shut. "I'll get you something, but you have to let me go." The Noah pulled at an arm that was still wrapped around his hips, a little fascinated by how Lavi could have such strength while nearly sleeping.

"Mmhmm. Right after I... hmm..."

The arm went limp.

Tyki removed himself from the bed with gentle movements, slipped his feet onto the floor. There air was a great deal cooler than he was used to – perhaps summer had simply transformed into winter while he had been curled next to Lavi's deliciously warm body – and the sensation of moving from one temperature to another made him all too aware of just how naked he really was at the moment.

With that thought in the forefront of his brain and his mind set on something warm to start the morning, Tyki dressed in casual clothing and made his way to the kitchen. Promptly, aware that he still had not come to a conclusion as to what to do with the swordsman in his basement and feeling rather less than inclined to worry about it, the Noah set about finding something with which to feed the redhead still curled so tenderly in his bed. Perhaps it was the smell of overcooked bread that brought the boy out into the kitchen in a sheet – Tyki didn't particularly care what it was. He only cared that Lavi's hair had dried in a very awkward shape after their late night bath and the color of the boy's cheeks seemed decidedly paler than usual.

"I had one fucked up dream after another last night." Lavi remarked, and seated himself at the momentarily clean table with a light shiver. The sheet wound a little more tightly around the boy's shoulders before he continued. "Mostly about Bookman." The way he said it, like there was no mystery to who the older man was, made the sentence disconcerting.

Tyki laid two pieces of over buttered and burnt toast in front of the redhead. "Should I pry, or do you not want to talk about it?"

"You don't have to pry. I was gonna ramble anyway." Lavi smiled then, that same, perfectly friendly smile, and Tyki felt a bit relieved at the sight of it. "I dreamed that I was really little, and I had to keep my right eye covered because it would make me less inclined to be neutral in my current recordings, but that it would be infinitely nice to have later. And when I woke up..." He picked up a piece of toast and bit into it before going on, "I realiz'd that m'right eye rea'y _was_ special, I jus' needed t'be aware of it."

The Noah allowed himself to ease into the chair opposite Lavi's. There was something every serious in the apprentice Bookman's face, but the casualness of his actions made it less obvious how serious. Tyki simply waited. He waited for everything he had felt and said and learned in the last few months to come back as a lie.

"I can see evil with it in things, even when it's hidden. It's not like it's intentions or anything like that, it's just... I can see it. And I wanted to know..." Lavi turned his face away as if suddenly shy. "Would you mind if I tried it on you? We both know that you've done bad things, and it doesn't matter, I just want to know if I can see—"

Tyki laughed. He could not explain it at first, but the sound grew louder as he realized just what he found amusing in the situation. Lavi was ridiculous. What would it matter if the evil in him showed like it had in the past? Would it change anything? No. They were supposed to be beyond good and evil now, weren't they? So why would Lavi—

There had been too much blood and violence in the last few days, too much killing intent without enough killing. Angrily, the Noah leaned forward and slammed his hands on the tabletop effectively rattling Lavi's plate without dislodging the remaining slice of toast that occupied it. "You want to have a look at my dark little soul so you can understand what I've done and how little remorse I've felt over doing it?" The Noah laughed. "You don't need a special eye to see that, Lavi. I've told you everything that I've done, every sin I've committed knowingly. What more do you want me to confess?" He leaned closer, so that the boy was looking up at him with two perfectly round eyes. "Do you want me to tell you about the Exorcist that found you? Do you want to know what I did once you were gone?"

"No, I..." Lavi's voice quavered, and the protest went unfinished.

"Then why would you ask to see the marks on my soul unless you wanted to hurt us both?"

The redhead turned his eyes down, focusing on the toast that still lay on the plate in front of him. His eyes became decidedly distant, but when he spoke, it was in a whisper that fit only in the close space between the two of them. "I'm... afraid to look at myself." He lifted his left hand so that he could move it toward Tyki's right, but he did not quite touch the Portuguese man. "But you're right. I know what you've done and I shouldn't put you through that. I was stupid to suggest it."

Tyki did touch Lavi's hand, then, and moved forward just enough to feel that human, compassionate part of him want to be tender. "Then don't look at anyone." He breathed. "Can we not live as we have been, regardless of everything else?"

"But things are changing in my head, Tyki. The more I remember..."

Tyki shushed him. "The more stupid you become."

– – –

It was just after noon when Tyki went out, supposedly to hear the details on a rather dangerous plan of his leaders divining. The Earl, Tyki explained before leaving, was becoming restless. Things had not gone as planned for their last attempt at destroying their enemies, and now things had reached a peak for the First Disciple. He was angry and haunted. He might, given the chance, do something irrational.

Lavi was unsure if Tyki was the one who would keep the Earl in line, but it did not matter. It only mattered that the taste on his lips when the Noah left was sweet and filled with desire and endearment, laced with a twinge of pain and longing. It struck the apprentice Bookman as he watched the man leave that things were strained between them, difficult in a way that he could not understand very well at all, and heavy with emotions that made every part of him want nothing more than to curl up and hold on to the Noah, to pray that there was a way to keep going, forever. The feeling lasted long after Tyki disappeared into the shadow of a nearby building and did not come out of the other side, and festered in the redhead's chest the longer he remained in the doorway. There had to be something, some way, to fix what had become of their relationship. There had to be some terrifyingly simple tenderness that would bring back the feeling of belonging and joy that always filled him when they made love.

With that thought in his head, barefoot, and coat-less, Lavi stepped out into the day and stood on the wooden porch. He closed the door behind him. He felt rather lazy and out of place in his simple white pants and a sporting a shirt of baggy green material, but he did not think it mattered that much if he stayed close to the house. It felt good to stand in the sunshine, and even better to close his eyes to the crisp, almost icy breeze that blew in from the north, bringing with it the kiss of the coming winter.

Lavi stretched. He felt restless, and his thoughts – Tyki, the past, the future, the growing unease in his chest – were not making it easier to relax at all. The air, which had been frigid in the morning hours, felt too cool to stand in with those burning thoughts filling up his mind.

With a light curse, the shirtless redhead skipped his way down the front steps. A walk would do him good. Just a short, barefoot walk around the house. Just a moment to clear his head.

The redhead had only gone down the steps when he felt that maybe the idea was foolhardy. He took a sharp left around the side of the house. He'd just walk the grounds. The chill air would wake him up and then he would go inside refreshed, and he would be able to sit down at the kitchen table and sift through every memory that had surfaced and every emotion he had come to feel, and he would be able to embrace Tyki the moment the Portuguese man came home.

His feet felt strange on the wet blades of the grass that made up the lawn, and the sunlight showed orange through the thin layer of Lavi's eyelids. The fresh air, felt soothing on his skin. It was cold. It would get colder. He couldn't imagine staying outside for more than a few minutes, even if he did not want to spend the day cooped up with his thoughts.

The smell of blood – not strong but still detectable – made Lavi slow to a snails pace, his thoughts on how cold it was and how refreshed he was momentarily forgotten. His green eyes scanned the area in front of him and then farther to his left, to the side of the house, and to the corner of the porch. There wasn't anything to see at first, but a few steps brought Lavi around to the side of the house, and showed him a splattering of dried blood across the grass in a line that lead to a bolted pair of hardwood doors. A cellar. He hadn't even thought that they had a cellar. The trail of gore would lead him directly through those doors, he realized, and into some dark secret that Tyki was keeping from him.

Curiosity, keen and horrible, made Lavi stop. Disgust, thick and painful, made him wind his arms around his chest and pull in a cold, razor sharp breath. He wanted to _know _what was in that cellar. He wanted to _know_ whose blood it was, how it had gotten there, when it had happened. He wanted to, and yet he knew that it would ruin everything he and Tyki had worked for.

"Just ask him." Lavi told himself, and turned away from the doors and back toward the white porch he had come from. "Just ask him."

– – –

Time moved like water down a mostly clogged drain, slipping away faster than he could stop it and slower than he would have liked. The cold and the dark were not strangers to him, the pain in his arm and in his face were not the worst he had felt, but he would have killed to be somewhere else – anywhere else – to not have been so stupid. It was easier for the illusions to cling to him when he couldn't _see_ anything out of one eye and it was so Goddamn dark the gardening tools looked like medical supplies and torture devices. It helped that he couldn't feel much but the hardness of the floor and the pain in his body – they kept him centered and helped him distinguish the difference between what was there and what wasn't.

It still surprised him when pain seared through his chest and left him gasping and choking – the doors hadn't opened and he had thought the dimly lit figure in front of him nothing but a shadowy illusion. The sensation that filled him was a bit like drowning, only he felt that he didn't have lungs to breathe with, that instead there was nothing but a fountain of blood running up the back of his throat. The world dimmed further toward blackness, but the sting of a blow against his face kept the room in partial focus for just an instant, just a heartbeat longer, and Kanda wrapped his mind around that fragment of awareness in the effort not to die – again. He couldn't die again. He couldn't let himself lose anymore time than he already had.

There were people and things counting on his survival.

"Tell me who it was." The voice was so vicious, so _angry_ and close, that Kanda snapped his head back into sharp contact with the pipe beside his head. The icy shock of protest from his skull distracted him from the _gasp_ – the life giving, stinging, burning gasp – that choked him and woke him at once. Had he died? He should have died. From the wet, slick sound of some part of him slapping against the floor, he should have died.

But he was still alive. Hardly. Alive enough to feel the fingers twisted in his hair and see the rage contorted face of shadows in front of him.

"Who was it?!" It was a demand that Kanda couldn't follow. It was a question he didn't have air to answer. "Tell me, Exorcist, who did Lavi spend his time with before he came to be with me? Who did he trust?" The Noah's voice was distinguishable now, if only because of the context. Still, what Tyki meant to ask was lost on the Japanese man. "Who did he _love_, Exorcist? Bookman or not, he must have shown signs."

Despite the agony in his body and the dwindling confusion in his mind, Kanda burbled out a sickly chuckle, thin from his lack of breath. How was he supposed to answer when all he could do was wheeze? But whatever. It didn't matter. Lavi hadn't loved anyone – couldn't have loved anyone. He had cared, Kanda knew that, but love was one emotion that when it wasn't learned as a child, it didn't suddenly compute as an adult.

If a childhood was forgotten, however...

"Y'think a Bookman can love somebody?" Kanda seeped the words through lips that felt sticky and numb. "He n'ver felt anything. Not even when it looked like it. He didn't love anybody." Somehow, there was anger in his voice and Kanda could hear it – but there was nothing to be angry over. The past was over and done with now, and losing handfuls of his flesh meant getting away to change that wasn't a likely outcome. The anger turned into a roaring fire of rage. "He might not even really love _you_ anymore, when he _remembers_." He would have gone on. There were so many slurs and insults he could have thrown and so many things he could have said, but he suddenly couldn't articulate anything but a horrible, throat abusing scream. The sound died a moment later, cut off with his flow of air.

_'Did you not want me to do that?'  
'Che. You just surprised me.'_

The conversation flashed through his mind as fast as a bolt of lightning and then it was gone again, replaced by a snarl that he could only half hear.

"I'll make him love me!" Tyki yelled at him, and what must have been the Noah's hand sliced through Kanda's abdomen in a motion that left the swordsman shaking. Blood loss was not a problem easily fixed, even through magic. "And kill whoever came first!"

Kanda would have tried once more to explain that that simply was not possible, but reality was swiftly slipping away from him, moving like sand through his fingers. There was nothing to grasp and nothing to anchor to – not even pain could keep the moment tangible anymore. And what was one more death, really? What was one more fraction of his life for peace? What did it matter if he didn't wake up and Lavi lived the rest of his life feeling for someone else?

– – –

He lost himself in what he was doing.

That wasn't something out of the ordinary for Tyki, as he often lost himself in things he found pleasant, or simply wandered off in thought while he enjoyed some simple physical activity. And the more often that it happened, the more human he felt most of the time – when he came back to himself he was renewed and refreshed.

This time, he was breathless and empty.

Blood, some of it fresh, some of it dry, soaked his clothes and splattered the floor in dark circles and lines, and marred the pale, expressionless face in front of him. There was far too much of it. No human had ever had that much blood as far as Tyki knew, and yet it had all come from the boy crumpled against the wall. The Exorcist had not moved for what now seemed like a long time, nor had he made a sound. Currently, Tyki noted, he held the boy's heart in his right hand and what might have been the broken remains of a lung in his left, both of them still warm. Perhaps that was enough, finally. Maybe, with more blood and gore strewn about the cellar than any person had the right to lose, the Japanese Exorcist would finally die an inglorious death, and Tyki would be left with one less worry.

The thought was the only thing that made Tyki feel human at the moment. He felt tired and languid, and, to his slight surprise, lustful underneath it all.

Very lustful. Thirsty for the touch of skin against his and the feel of hair tangled in his hands, hungry for the panting, pleading press of lips to his. When the violence was gone, there was only burning desire and cold indifference, and the realization that this time his feelings were not specific to Lavi made Tyki more uncomfortable with their arrangement than he had felt in weeks.

Disgust, too, threatened to take root for a moment. Was that all it took? A bleeding lump of flesh and a pretty face? Tyki snarled at the Exorcist's corpse in front of him. He was still angry, though the reaction was hard to explain exactly. The day had been terrible simply because of Lavi's suggestion in the morning – his dream, his cool demeanor – and it had set the tone for the meal Tyki had shared with his family. Things had not gone well. And Sheryl had mocked him for it. And now, _knowing_ that there was nothing to undo how Lavi had felt in the past and _feeling_ that the whole endeavor had been doomed from the start, Tyki did not know what to do exactly.

Eaze and the others were friends of his human half and Tyki wished to protect them. Why could things not be so easy with Lavi?

To make matters worse, the more Tyki thought of losing the redhead, the less he wanted it to come to that. The more he thought of hurting the apprentice Bookman, the less he felt that it was an option. The more he looked at the beaten, lifeless face of the Japanese Exorcist, the less mortal he felt.

With a slow, deep breath, Tyki closed his eyes and allowed his hands to relax. The sound of flesh hitting the dirt floor was not alien to him – he did not even question the wet squelch of it under his feet as he turned toward the stairs. The mess he left, the boy that had finally died, the blood, everything, could be dealt with in the morning without risking too much rot or stench. And at the moment, regardless of everything else, Tyki needed to find the object of his mental frustrations and perhaps take out his physical ones. Assuming his foul mood didn't make that impossible for both of them.

It was not until Tyki was on the stairs that he remembered that the doors were locked from the outside. With a shake of his head and movement of his bloody right hand through his sticky hair, Tyki willed himself through the wood and into the cool evening air, and didn't find it refreshing at all.

– – –

The town was full of rumors and stories and sightings, but none of them made any sense at all. The biggest lead that Allen found was a woman who claimed that strange, terrifying things were afoot – a madam had been beheaded, a girl with a sword had perhaps robbed or killed a townsman, and the locally loved politician had stopped coming to market to pick up his groceries. There had been explosions that had remained unexplained only three months ago, and people were starting to act in curious, quiet ways.

By nightfall, the British Exorcist thought he might have known what house it was that Lavi – and Tyki Mikk – were staying in, but he did not want to risk barging into an innocent's home on only rumors. He would watch when morning came, and act if he saw either of them. Kanda's trail – he was too good at maintaining a low profile for his own good – quickly ran cold, which bothered Allen immensely. There was nothing to be done for it, however, so the white haired teen decided that it would be best to simply wait for the time being. Wait for something to come up.

Allen hated waiting.

He did not try to call headquarters and explain what had happened, nor did he try to contact Link and inform him of the situation. Instead, Allen found himself a quiet inn not too far from the little white house in question and set himself up with a room for the night, a room which had only a single bed and a window that looked out toward the dawn. The décor lacked thought, but did not distract him from the purpose of the room itself – the bed was covered in soft beige while the windows sported something more like russet orange – and he found himself calmed by the unpredictability of it. His own room at the Order had once been filled with all manner of strange things like chains and crosses and jars of scientific goop, but the colors had always been rather bland. Though never as bland as Kanda's.

More often than Allen liked, his thoughts went back and lingered on the long haired swordsman, and turned swiftly to things that simply were not proper to think about in such a serious situation. It wasn't as if Allen was infatuated with the older man, nor was he enamored, he simply _wanted_ the Japanese Exorcist in a way that completely defied their current and past relationship. They were comrades. They wouldn't have even spoken to each other if not for the war. They rubbed each other the wrong way, even if they had far more in-common than either of them liked to admit. But it was that wrongness, the friction, the static, the fire that rose in Allen's veins when Kanda told him he was a naïve liar and a shoddy excuse for a martyr, that made the attraction so strong. Because in many ways, Kanda was right and Allen knew it. And there was simply nothing that Allen could do to change that.

_'Che. Why are you smiling?'  
'You woke up, Kanda.'  
'Idiot.'_

The conversation had been fleeting, but Allen had learned something very important out of it. Kanda did not smile for others.

Selfish, but right.

With a sigh that did nothing to ease the tension in his body, Allen lay flat on his back on the single bed, looking up at the dark rafters. For the longest time, Lenalee had been the most adorable, loveable thing in his life (most likely still was if he didn't count Tim – who was damn loveable sometimes), but now Allen had to wonder if cute and affectionate were even what he wanted. Kanda could match wits with him sometimes. And when they couldn't argue, there was physical exertion to drive out the awkwardness and burn away the rage.

It was too bad that Kanda was damn good at hand-to-hand combat. Allen would have loved to pin him down by all of that luscious hair and...

His thoughts were in the wrong place again. All of that blood in the alley way was supposed to make him worry.

Allen threw an arm over his face to block out what little light there was in the room. "Why did I let him go alone?"

– – –

Lavi fell asleep leaning on the kitchen table, arms folded under his head, a worried expression on his features. There were papers strewn about the tabletop in what might have been organized chaos – divided by language and perhaps contents, all of them in the redhead's hand. The way the boy held to one of them even in his sleep made Tyki think that perhaps they were important, and maybe it would be best not to clean up the mess until Lavi woke.

So the Noah surreptitiously tiptoed his way into the bathroom and drew up a bath, knowing it would be better to face his young lover when he wasn't bloody to the point of gruesomeness. Almost as soon as he had stripped off his ruined clothing and sank below the surface of the steaming, soothing water, he heard the crinkle of paper and the shift of feet on the floor. But Lavi did not interrupt him right away. Tyki submerged his hair and watched the water around him turn first pink and then almost burnt orange, swirling with darker tendrils of older blood, then reached for something with which to cleanse his tangled tresses. When he was finished, the Portuguese man scrubbed at his skin until he was satisfied and, without delay, pulled the plug on the tub.

The last of the water formed a small, clockwise spinning whirlpool before the door opened without the courtesy of a knock. Tyki wrapped a towel around his waist before he glanced up at the apprentice Bookman, schooling his face into a mask of innocent curiosity.

"Did you have another assignment?" Lavi's voice was tired and quiet, brittle like he did not want to break the silence and would let his words crack instead. He blinked very slowly and wrinkled his nose for a moment. "It smells like soap and death in here..." That, however, was a distant observation, strangled by threads of memory.

Tyki made his way across the cold tile floor to the redhead, noting that even now, even with so much behind his eyes, Lavi did not even flinch at their nearness. And the thoughtful frown to the boy's lips did not change either. "Not exactly." Tyki replied honestly. "An old one came back to haunt me. And might again, given some time."

"What's in the cellar?"

Tyki blinked. He lost his mask of warmth and understanding and curiosity, felt it dashed away by the ice water of Lavi's words. If the boy had looked then lying would be impossible. If the boy hadn't looked then lying was the only option. And if Lavi remembered who the swordsman was and how the Japanese man simply refused to die... "We have a cellar?"

"Don't fucking pretend you don't know what I'm talking about!" Pain and betrayal could not hide behind the boy's anger. "I saw the blood on the door! What's in there?"

"Nothing! Nothing you want to hear about, Lavi."

"This isn't going to work if you're not honest, that's the point. Tyki..."

The Noah wished that that was true. He wished that the redhead would understand. But that wasn't the case. And exposing Lavi to the swordsman again would likely result in memories that Tyki could not afford to allow to surface. Not if he wanted to avoid unpleasantness. "Nothing is in the cellar. I used it before you came here and not once since. Can you not _trust_ me when I tell you that?"

"No." Lavi whispered, and his knuckles visibly whitened when he clasped his hands. "Yes. I don't know. Just... I'm going on a walk. I need to clear my head. I keep thinking about things and people and the blood and Bernadette, and everyone I _knew_, Tyki. And as much as I love you, as good as this is, I need to settle. I need to think. Because I don't want this to just... end when I realize everything I had." A mirthless little smile crawled across his lips, self-deprecating and honest. "I'm not Job, I don't think. If I had friends before, I can't just replace them. If I had a lover before, I can't just forget them. You understand?" Somewhere he had gone from angry over a secret to fragile and lost, lonely and in need of warmth. Lavi, no matter what he remembered at the moment, still believed that he felt love for the man in front of him, it was obvious by the light in his expression.

Gently, Tyki reached out with a damp hand and cupped the side of the younger man's face. It felt smooth and warm against his skin, delicate, but only because of how human the Exorcist really was. "Do what you have to." Tyki heard himself say. "Just come back to me at the end, alright?"

The redhead nodded before he leaned up to kiss Tyki, tender and sweet, the way things had been, the way things were supposed to be. "I promise."

– – –

Reality did not slam into him like it sometimes did when he rose from the dead, nor did it ease into his bones and rouse him like a lover, tender and quiet. Instead, it burned through him like a poison, moved his thick, toxin swamped blood through his veins and forced him to choke out what had come to rest in his lungs. He felt stiff and cold, feverish from wounds that had only just healed enough to support life again. And something else. Kanda had only experienced what it was to go septic once, but he remembered it as clearly as he did first unsheathing Mugen – one did not forget the black fire of infection or the heavy, weak sensation of a double edged heartbeat. And now, pressed against a cold metal pipe with no water or food or warmth to speak of, the swordsman had to wonder if his body would be the end of itself after all.

There seemed to be the dimmest shaft of light falling over the floor, but Kanda did not pay it too much attention. He focused on trying to breathe out the congealed mess that clogged most of his airway, and tried to individually move his fingers and toes, even the ones he could not feel.

A tenor mumble filled his ears before a hand – not his own – touched his lips and tilted water between them. Sweet, clean water. It didn't matter who was offering it, nor did it matter that Kanda had half a mind to bite those fingers. The liquid was just enough to wet his lips and tongue, to moisten his throat, and then there was nothing left but a hand pressed to his lips.

"Some nothing." The mumble was still too quite to identify, just loud enough to make Kanda try to bring the shadow moving in front of him into focus. He couldn't, because his eyes weren't yet functioning, but the attempt brought a second handful of water to his lips and he drained it, breathless when it was gone. The press of something cold and hard to his fingers alerted the swordsman that the fabric that had once held him to the pipe next to his face was gone – his arms were useless at his sides, the right splinted with part of a shovel handle. Or maybe it was a rake. It didn't matter. The bones had been broken again, it seemed or simply had not healed as much as they should have.

The grumble in front of him had something to do with a fever and Tyki Mikk's misuse of words, but it ended like a question somehow. A whisper, but still a question. Repeated softly. Maybe the voice wanted him to respond even if he couldn't make out what was being said exactly.

Not a voice, a person. Kanda knew that much. But who could possibly have found him in a Noah's cellar when his golem had disappeared some time ago?

"...button's say _Yuu Kanda_, but that's kinda awkward isn't it? I mean, doesn't it get confusing?"

What the fuck was this idiot rambling on about? And why were his hands pulling open Kanda's coat?

"…I guess everyone just calls you by your last name, huh? Be easier that way. Good thing Tyki told me my name was on my buttons when I got here – never woulda thought to look otherwise."

_Lavi._

The thought struck him like a physical blow, and sent a bolt of awareness and life jolting through his whole frame. It didn't speed the healing process at all – it would take hours for him to be anywhere close to mobile, and days before the wounds were nothing but memories – but it gave him a reason to force his one working eye to focus and a point at which to aim his senses. Almost at once his half-unfeeling fingers found a fringe of fabric, like the hem of a shirt, and then the curve of a stomach, both of them connected to something larger. Green. And above that, if he followed the shape with his eyes, he could make out a mop of unruly red and white-gold, almost shapeless in the dim light.

"Hey, don't try anything funny. I don't remember and you're about a half inch from dead – I'm only doing this because—"

Kanda's attempt at saying the redhead's name resulted in something like a hissed, formless whisper.

"Tyki lied and I just... I _can't_ walk away again. Leaving that alleyway, when he'd... I just can't do that again."

"Lavi." This time, Kanda managed to get air behind it. The result was a short pause in the redhead's mostly one-sided conversation. "Shut up."

"Yeah, you sound just like him, Kanda."

The swordsman blinked repeatedly at the name. Lavi did not call him Kanda. Would not. Not for money or food or hookers. But the tone was still correct, down to the teasing little lift and the smile that didn't always reach the other boy's eyes, it was still Lavi under it all, even if he did not remember who Kanda was. The thought was painful – or maybe it was just irritating – but it wasn't the end of what had been. Especially if the Japanese man could get out of the cellar alive...

With all of his will, Kanda ignored the fact that getting out of the cellar, feverish or not, wounded or not, would likely have no impact at all on his future. Without Mugen—

"So now..." Lavi interrupted his train of thought. "I was thinking that you should tell me everything you know about me so I can send you on your way. Or maybe move you to an inn. Just... get you out of here." The redhead leaned closer, close enough that Kanda could make out his facial features better, and see the confusion dancing behind his eyes. "Because I'm not leaving over this. I love him too much to let one lie make everything we've promised moot. And you're tough enough to break out, right?"

"Che. You _love_ him?"

"What's so surprising about that?"

Kanda ignored the pain in his chest and the vertigo that threatened to spill the contents of his stomach across the floor when he moved. He simply threw himself forward, smashed his palms on the redhead's shoulders and used his momentum to carry them both down against the dirt floor, ineffectually pinning the apprentice Bookman. Lavi did not fight him, though Kanda could not imagine why not. With the redhead beneath him, his fingers itched to wrap around the idiot's throat and strangle some sense into him, but the swordsman did not follow the temptation. Instead, he narrowed his eyes into the best glare he could manage at the moment, and clamped his knees tight on Lavi's hips, holding him in place.

"You can't love anyone, Bookman. It's not allowed, remember?" Kanda whispered in a harsh, panting breath.

Lavi didn't struggle, but a hand came up to touch the billowing side of Kanda's ribcage. Maybe it was a feeble attempt to soothe a sick man, or maybe he was looking for a broken rib to punch. "I don't know what you're talking about, Kanda."

"Why are you calling me that?!" His snarl had more bitterness in it than it did anger, and he tightened his hands on Lavi's shoulders, bruising flesh that he couldn't see, but wanted to feel. Yet the hand on his chest remained perfectly gentle, tenderly stroking across fractured bones and bruised tissues with care and curiosity. "You don't call me Kanda. You call me Yuu. Or Yuu-chan. Or whatever fucked up pun you can make out of it. Even when I threaten you, it's still _Yuu, Yuu, Yuu_ and nothing else!"

The fingers tracing across Kanda's side came to a sudden, shaking halt. "...Yuu?"

– – –

**Yeah. It ends there. Please forgive me for the suddenness. Thanks for reading, and thanks to Bookkbaby for reading it over for me. :D I'll see you all next chapter, which I hope to have out sooner than I did this one.**

**Also... the ridiculous plot movement... yeah, I hope you like it. This story is going really fast, but I still don't know how much it has left in chapters. **

**Thanks for readings and reviewing!**


	16. Afraid of Waking

Uuuuuum... I'm getting married. Thus this is late. Yay.

**WARNINGS: So many. Blood and gore, near rape, emotional upheaval, swishy pairings, Allen, etc...**

**I am down a beta. I'm borrowing the beta I use for a lot of other stuff (saxon_jesus on LJ), but I'm hoping to find someone willing to beta this story... anyway... Oh, and the strange style is something I adopted from another piece of mine. D: They sort of bled because I was working on them both at once.**

**DISCLAIMER: If I owned D. Gray-man... Kanda would be down to like, 20 petals by now.**

– – –

Sixteen: Afraid of Waking

One moment, Lavi was more or less pinned against the disgusting dirt floor by a man (definitely a man) that should have been dead, and the next he was spiraling away, swept up in a torrent of memories too large and informative to fit into the confines of his skull. They started when he was young, when he wasn't Lavi, and stretched over names and years and places and wounds and people and deaths and records; they poured into him unstoppably, matching names and faces and locations, drowning out the present, destroying what he had become. Feeling wasn't something he was allowed to do. Observation. Most of his life was based on the concept of looking without touching. And all of those things, those memories, were preserved with that sort of mentality – uncorrupted by how he might have emotionally reacted to what had happened, but unprotected by how he _felt_ at the moment.

They did not seep back to him, slow and understandable. They did not wash over him in a broken wave. They consumed him. And it hurt. Deep in his skull, where the pressure of a whole lifetime met with the last few months, Lavi felt that someone had planted a rod of iron, barbed and white hot, then proceeded to twist it every time he breathed. But that wasn't the worst of it. There were so many things now, things that had happened, that he didn't know if they were Lavi's or not.

It was someone else who had done some of those things. They were terrible, bad things. The person that Lavi remembered being had left so many wounded and dying men on the battlefield, and had never felt a thing afterward. Most of them had been alive enough to call out to him, to ask for someone to help them, or give them a swift death.

That person hadn't killed to save himself. That person had killed because it was expected of him.

He felt sick just thinking about it.

Recent memories, the last three or four years of his life, the last six months before he had come to stay with Tyki, crept into his mind so tight he whimpered at the crushing sensation behind his eyes. He had the sinking feeling that he had screamed, that he was still making sound, but he could not stop himself. Especially not when he saw, and felt, and understood the things that he had turned his back on.

Some of those things were still him, not some heartless Bookman set on recording the inner workings of the world. Some of the times with Allen, and with Lenalee, and when Johnny had given him a new headband to replace his old one.

And Yuu.

The memories of _Yuu_ were locked up in a cage of feelings that, when he touched them, burned like fire and ached like broken bones, deep seeded and internal. Why he felt that way, he could not say. He only knew that it was Lavi who had done the things that made it that way – had said and touched and lied his way into the mess of broken emotions that defined that relationship. It was his fault that Kanda had yelled at him, his fault that he had stormed away, his fault that the Japanese man hadn't had time to tell him goodbye before he left on that last mission. And it had been his fault – all Lavi's fault – that the two of them weren't friends.

And he could at least handle that.

Still, the apprentice Bookman found himself reaching out to cling to that familiar figure, that shadow from his not-so-distant past. Because Yuu would not change. The man in the cellar was also the man that Lavi saw at breakfast almost every morning – had seen – and the lack of feeling would be the same no matter the situation. Even if Lavi new that he was lonely and sad and terrified and happy. Even if Lavi felt fear crawling like maggots under his skin.

But there was also Tyki.

"Oh, fuck." They were the first intelligible words that came to Lavi's ears in his own voice, produced in a shaking and broken whisper, ragged in his sore throat. The room was still distant, dark, cold, fogged over with the pain that took up all of the space in his head. But he could make out Yuu and his curtain of ebony hair, bloody and tangled, though drawing him into focus made Lavi feel seasick and despicable. Physically, Lavi knew that there were hands on his shoulders, but that didn't mean anything. None of it meant anything. He couldn't yet comprehend what had happened exactly or what he should do about it. Especially Tyki.

"Are you...back, now?" Yuu's voice sounded almost slurred and weak, like he really did not need to be talking at the moment. The observation made Lavi's brain go into overdrive – something important had happened not too long ago, and it had something to do with the state of the room...

Blood. Everywhere. Yuu's. A heart, a lung, a liver, fibrous membranes that Lavi could not recognize – all strewn across the floor. All Yuu's. _Worry_, dark and cool and somehow blue-gray blossomed in Lavi's hands, worked his fingers to the other man's ribcage.

"He..." Tyki. Tyki had done it. _Confusion_ roiled to life, orange-green, and seemed to fill Lavi's gut. It mingled with seaweed green _anxiety_, tightened his throat. "Yeah, Yuu, I'm just... my head hurts. I feel sick. How come you look all... round? Oh, it's having two eyes, huh? There's a lot of you on the floor, isn't there? You gonna be alright?" Lavi cut himself off after that, afraid that something else useless was going to fall out of his mouth. With a light shake of his head – which throbbed all the way to the nape of his neck – he went on, trying to focus on keeping what he knew in line with what he wanted to, and not rambling on about nothing. "Sorry. Everything is... off. Muddy. Foggy. Mixed up. I remember... a lot. But what does it mean? What about..."

"Lavi." Yuu's hands moved to hold the sides of the redhead's face in order to keep him still. "Shut up and get us out of here."

"What did we fight about?" Lavi asked, unable to stop the bright orange _curiosity_ contained in his forehead.

"What?"

"Before I left on the mission. What did we fight about?"

The swordsman blinked at him with one eye in the dark. The right one was swollen to the point that Lavi doubted it was currently useful at all – if it had been anyone else, the apprentice Bookman thought, it would never see again. "You told me I wasn't being careful with myself and I told you that I know what I'm doing."

"I called you..."

"_Vulnerable_."

"And you asked me what that meant. And I said..."

_"Weak. Exposed. Like a stupid turtle stuck on his back, wiggling his legs all, 'help me!'"_

Lavi closed his eyes. It had gone downhill from there. Such a stupid fight, really. "Sorry. We can talk more later. Right now I need to get you out of—"

Yuu shushed him, but it was much too late for the sound to make a difference. Lavi only saw the flicker of a shadow in Yuu's eye and then they were moving apart from each other, though Yuu did not move very far at all. The swordsman slid to the side and collided with a rack of gardening tools before he collapsed against the ground and stayed there, the mess of his hair blocking his face from sight. Meanwhile, Lavi felt something wind around his stomach and _rip_ him backward, bruising his flesh, driving the air from his lungs. But there wasn't fear in him, not really. Fear would have been fitting.

Instead, there was pain and something like regret.

The redhead knew that the Noah holding him, pulling him toward the stairs, was saying things as they went, but he couldn't hear them. He could only focus on the fact that there was nothing he could do and nothing he could say. There was nothing he knew to. Did he want to tell Yuu that Mugen was just two arm lengths away, moved from behind the bookshelf while Tyki changed into sleeping clothes? He didn't know. Did he want Tyki to take him back inside and claim him, demand that he stay because of his promises? He didn't know. Lavi felt sick with himself for not knowing. He hadn't lied to Tyki, had he? But if that was true, if he _loved_ his enemy, where did that leave him?

Currently, it left him phased through the outer wall of the house and hefted hard against the bed, his left arm twisted up behind his back.

"Tyki!"

"It's too late now, isn't it? I heard what you said. But I won't let it end this way." The man's voice was low and rational, which did not make much sense with what he had just done. His grip was strong, but it didn't threaten to break the limb he held between his fingers. "It was him, wasn't it, before me? It doesn't matter. We've been lying to each other, haven't we?" The sound of tearing fabric filled the room for a moment before Lavi felt it against his wrist, replacing Tyki's hand.

Did he want to fight for his freedom?

"No... I... I don't know... just... wait, Tyki—"

"Wait for you to change your mind?" The Portuguese man took Lavi's other wrist and bound it to the first one, then rolled him onto his back with a half-gentle motion. The man's face, the apprentice Bookman noted, was a picture perfect representation of betrayal. The sad quality to Tyki's soft brown eyes, the flecks of angry gold, the down turned angle to his elegant mouth – was it guilt that they evoked? "Are you going to fight me, Exorcist?"

Lavi swallowed with difficulty. "It's not that simple. It's too fast. I—I _know_ you, Tyki. I remember what you did for me, when I was blind, when I was... lost. But I _remember_ how I _became_ blind. And everything else you did – to Allen, to Yuu. What am I supposed to do now? Love you? Trust you? Go home? What does that even mean?" Lavi felt that he wanted to laugh a little, at his own rambling, at the emotions he could see in Tyki's expression – at all of them meant. The Noah loved him. The Noah of Pleasure, Tyki Mikk, really loved him. "I'm just Bookman Junior, you know? Love, trust, home – I don't have those things."

"Lavi—"

"Didn't. Don't. Can't. Do. _God_, I'm losing my mind and all you can do is tie me up?"

In one graceful, agonizingly familiar motion, Tyki leaned between Lavi's knees and placed a hand on either side of the boy's head, more or less pinning him to the mattress. For a moment, the Portuguese man paused to search Lavi's face, and his expression softened. "In any case, it would be better if you didn't stay here. If you do, your Order will come after us, and when my family realizes that you have remembered who you were, so will they." His eyes closed slowly, and when they opened again, there was so much honest longing in them it was almost startling. "The thought of... losing you is more frightening than anything I've ever known, Lavi. But I will let you figure out once more if you really love me. You promised me, but—"

"Then... why did you drag me in here, throw me on the bed, and tie me up?" Lavi asked in an incredulous whisper. There were only a few things that came to mind, none of which he could openly accept or deny in his current mental state. "I'm going crazy, and you understand that, so..."

"Lavi." Tyki's expression became a sort of amused grin, layered over with things that the apprentice Bookman could not even think of defining. "Are you frightened of me?"

"I don't know."

Tyki's fingers hooked into the loops of Lavi's pants and tugged the boy's body down the bed, tilting his hips to an unquestionably sexual angle. "Maybe you should be. I _am_ the Noah of Pleasure, after all."

"Tyki—"

"I might blindfold you, to remind me of the first time. You, though... you can imagine whoever you want." He was already reaching for the corner of the sheet he had torn, already set in what he was doing. But his hands, those killing hands, were shaking with uncertainty.

Lavi did not know what to say exactly. It was too much at once. There were memories and feelings, and the ache in his head. But there was one thing he realized the moment Tyki's fingers brushed his temples, blocking the room from sight: physical contact was meaningful, intimate, in an almost terrifying way. It made him shiver from something other than cold. It made his mouth fall open, brought back all of the times before, all of the things before, all of the ways that Tyki had smiled at him, touched his hair, kissed him. They were sweet and purposeful, loving. But was that really what it meant to be loved?

Blood-soaked clothes and murdering hands – was that what it meant to be loved?

"Tyki, I can't..."

With the fabric secured around the redhead's eyes, the Noah hands moved to the fastener of the boy's simple white pants and undid it. Without speaking, Tyki kissed Lavi's softly open mouth, teased with a flit of his tongue. The touch made the younger man shake slightly, his breath hitched in his throat.

"But you will," Tyki whispered, and the ebb of his breath against Lavi's felt like a caress. "Tell me, Bookman... do you still _feel_ when I do this to you?"

Lavi wanted more than anything to tell the Noah that he did, but he couldn't make himself answer. The way his hips were lifted, and the brush of lips against his made him tremble uncontrollably. Because there wasn't just Tyki in those touches, more than just those single-minded, hot-blooded memories. There was Yuu, too. There were arguments and moments of hardheartedness and hurt that lead to fire and trust and attachment, mixed with anger and something deep-reaching and colored like scarlet shot through with gold. The thought brought a protest to Lavi's throat, where it sputtered and died, unuttered. Who would he tell to stop? His memories? The hands sliding across his stomach, tickling his ribs? The phantom shadows of whispers, trickling into his ears?

"You said that you loved me."

_'You never tell me how you feel, but you always want me to talk about my own feelings.'_

"Was that a lie?"

_'Che. I don't... feel anything anymore.'_

"Or did you really know love, for just a little while?"

_'I know that cannot be true. You feel something.'_

"Even if you can't feel it now?"

_'I feel...cold.'_

Lavi did not know what he wanted, did not know if he stood a chance in getting away, but he had to fight – had to stop everything from bleeding together in a giant mess of things he could not understand. If love was truly what he felt for Tyki, what did he feel for Kanda? It was something similar, there was no doubt about it, but it lacked the amorality, and instead felt thick and heavy, like a dusty old coat, riddled with bloodstains and holes. Lavi could not deal with both emotions at once. He felt sound burble out of his throat, felt fingers bruising his hips, felt pain jolt through his neck and scalp at the tug of a hand tangled in his hair, bending his head back.

He felt fear prickle up his spine and take root in his gut.

A harsh, tearing negative strangled its way out of his throat, bringing with it a tangled, strange sound that he belatedly recognized as a sob. But Lavi did not know how to cry. Then why were there tears soaking into the fabric over his eyes? And why was his throat clenched on the wail that his vocal chords produced? Was it because Tyki was so close to him? Was it because Yuu was likely wounded or dying not six feet beneath him? Was it because of fear or love or hate or some strange thing that qualified as none of them?

"Lavi?"

He couldn't answer. He couldn't even honestly say if that was his name at the moment.

It would be so much easier to just be Bookman Junior.

"Lavi!" The strong hands that held him in place became gentle, and the bruising hold on his hips turned to tender fingers brushing away the fabric that had been bound over his eyes. The Noah was trying to soothe him, the redhead realized, trying to undo what had been done. But it was too late. The tears were there, if silent, and words refused, for a moment, to come. Fear and kindness lit the Noah's dark eyes and made them burn outward with warmth. It was almost like Lavi was not being lied to. "I didn't mean..."

"Tyki... I can't—"

But what was it that Lavi could not do?

_'You know... that that thing is... you know... I —'  
'Still has you convinced of that, does he?'_

The apprentice Bookman was more than thankful when Tyki abandoned his plan and simply pulled him into a bone-crushing embrace, tendrils of dark, curling hair falling around both of them, the older man's mouth pressed to the boy's shoulder. Even if Lavi could not return the touch, he appreciated it more than anything he could name. It was intimate, just as all touches were, but it was _safe_ for the time being, unlike kisses. Safe and familiar.

"I am sorry."  
_'Stop saying that.'_

"I have to go back."

"Lavi—"

"Whether I love you or not, I can't leave Bookman there to think I'm dead. I can't just walk away from everything I've become, otherwise I... would have already." Lavi whispered the last part, slightly frightened by how true it was. Even if it would be easier to be Bookman Junior, that was not who he _wanted_ to be any more than it was someone he completely understood. That person, who had done so many cruel, heartless things, was a mystery to Lavi.

The Noah's arms did not relinquish their hold. "Then you know I lied about his death."

"I don't remember the details of that fight, Tyki, but I know that I was the only one who fell. And... I understand why you lied to me."

"I'm—"

Lavi shushed him. Apologies would not help, nor would they make the future more clear. "We should find each other, somehow. I don't know where I'll go when I get back – or how long they'll keep me off of missions or if they'll even let me go alone – but I will need to see you again, once I've figured all of this out." The redhead found a surprising amount of reassurance in the idea of seeing the Noah again, and he did not find the feeling strange at all. If anything, he found it odd that he doubted himself for a fraction of a second, and lost whatever confidence it was he had in his emotions. "I don't know what I will be like when we see each other, but—"

"I will find you." Tyki spoke softly into Lavi's throat, just a brush of air against the redhead's skin. "Somehow. The Earl will likely order you killed with the rest – Road will understand and help me find you, I know she will. Sheryl..." The Noah made a negative sound and pulled away just slightly, enough to turn his face up to Lavi's. "I do not want to lose you, Lavi."

"I know."

"But I do not want to hurt you, either."

The apprentice Bookman felt himself frown.

"I _do_ love you."

That hurt, Lavi realized. Being loved and lacking the ability to know if he returned that feeling hurt worse than so many, many things that his other selves had done.

"Tyki—"

The bedroom door, with no warning whatsoever, burst inward with all of the force of Hell's Insects, sending splitters raining down around the pair in a shower of debris. There was a fraction of a second that Lavi worried that everything would fall to pieces before him – that Tyki would turn and kill Yuu, that Yuu would dart forward and run Mugen directly through the Noah's chest – but it did not happen. Tyki turned slowly, his golden eyes wide with surprise, to the figure that held weakly to the door frame, still bloody and broken, holding his katana in his left hand. In a fight, Kanda simply would not win. Still, the swordsman leveled his blade at the Portuguese man and narrowed his one, left eye, anger so dark it sent shivers up Lavi's spine, lighting his gaze.

"I told you," Yuu croaked softly, "I cannot die."

"Wait—" Lavi began to protest, hoping to stop the violence before it could start, but there really was no need. Yuu was not at his best, and Tyki was too shocked to move for the two quick heartbeats it took for the swordsman's expression to turn decidedly pained. With a terrible shudder in his shoulders, and a wobble from his sword-hand, Kanda coughed. He did not catch all of the blood that tried to bubble out of his mouth.

Tyki remained immobile, blinking bewilderedly at the Exorcist he had likely thought dead just moments ago.

"Let him go, or I swear to God —" Yuu still managed, even holding himself up with one shoulder and covered in his own blood, too look vicious and threatening. "— I will cut you into ribbons if it takes a million lifetimes to cut you once."

Not an empty threat. Most of Yuu's threats were empty.

"Yuu-chan, get out of here!" Lavi said the words before he could think about them, too concerned for what might happen if the Noah on the bed beside him suddenly turned violent. Lavi did not want to watch the two of them kill each other, nor did he want to think that he was the cause of the conflict – on some strange level. There was already too much blood on Kanda and too much uncertainty between himself and Tyki, there did not need to be more of either. "I'll be fine. Just... don't be stupid—"

"No." The whisper was like smoothed silk, straight and soft and saccharine, nearly soundless. The Noah shifted to sit at the edge of the bed and tilted his face up at the swordsman, his eyes turned so Lavi could not catch the color in them. The boy watched, dumbstruck, as Tyki lifted both of his hands. "Lavi, you have been rescued. The two of you will escape with your lives." He said the words hollowly, and swallowed hard before he went on. "Go, before my instincts get the better of me."

"Tyki—"

"Get up," Kanda hissed over the confusion and concern in Lavi's voice.

The redhead was not sure he wanted to let it end so abruptly.

When Lavi reached the edge of the bed, Tyki released him from the length of bed-sheet with nothing but a finger, tugging the fabric through his arms with nothing but the faintest tingle. With his arms freed, the redhead turned to the Noah in the hope of some explanation, but saw only the swimming gold and black of his eyes, the resignation in his expression.

"Why?" The word cracked through Lavi's lips like a dry, lifeless breeze.

A mirthless smile curved Tyki's lips. "Because I love you," he answered at once, just as softly. "Somehow it matters more to me that you do not hate me than it does that you do not love me." He looked up with his warm, dark eyes, and lifted an elegant, thoughtful eyebrow at the apprentice Bookman. "Now go. We can finish this and you can explain to me where exactly that Innocence was the next we stumble upon each other, Lavi. As I assure you, we will."

Lavi did not want to kiss him goodbye, so he did not, feeling far too unsure to even try. Instead, he simply reached out and laid a palm on Tyki's knee, then pushed himself up, feeling something burn behind his eyes in the manner of tears. But why would he cry? What was he losing? What was he _feeling_?

The swordsman by the door wavered on his feet when Lavi approached him but still managed to back away rather gracefully, his weapon still lifted toward Tyki. Kanda was taking not chances.

Lavi knew better and did not look back.

– – –

Allen wandered downstairs sometime after dark in the hope of sneaking a loaf of bread (or five) from the very tiny kitchen his inn had tucked away in the back behind the desk. He figured it was there for employees mostly – though he had watched two people order meals during the day – but figured that they would make an exception for someone funded by the Vatican, at least.

The man at the front desk was dozing, which gave the British boy hope. That hope was dashed, however, the moment the door opened to admit a blast of icy cold air and the stench of blood so thick it almost made him gag.

"I told you, I'm fine."

"Yuu-chan, if you were fine, you wouldn't be so hot."

"Che. Lose your fuck-buddy and already looking for a replacement?"

There was a soft, exasperated sigh. "You have a fever, Yuu. A bad fever. And you've lost way too much blood and stuff to be in a good place. Just... lean on me, please?"

"We're here, idiot. It doesn't matter."

Allen stumbled down the last four steps. The time it took him to fall was just long enough for his brain to compute what he was seeing and to send a terrible rush of relief into every part of his body. He felt the sting of tears in his eyes – caused mostly by the fact that both Lavi and Kanda were _alive_ – and felt the painful arch of a smile stretch across his face. No matter the state they were in, no matter the stains or the blood or the brokenness, his comrades – his friends – were safe. In the dim light, Kanda's gaze turned to him in momentary confusion, and then cleared after just a moment to recognize his face.

An odd, crooked smirk split the swordsman's mouth.

Allen almost tripped again.

And then, there was Lavi. The redhead was looking at him with two wide, green eyes, his hair disheveled, his pants mostly unbuttoned, his shirt smeared with blood and wrinkled like he had slept in it. But his smile was genuine and soft, light and yet filled with dark emotions that told of stories and troubles that he would not want to share with anyone.

The British boy did not care. He simply wanted to hug them both.

"What in the bloody blazes?!" The man behind the desk was no longer dozing. He had woken enough to wrench a billy club from behind his chair, which he was now wielding with absolutely no efficiency at all. His lightly colored eyes darted between the three seeming hoodlums before they settled on Kanda, at which point a frown tugged the man's wide, wrinkled lips into a perfect half-circle. He lowered his weapon almost begrudgingly. "You must be with him then, hm? Well, don't loiter there. It makes you look questionable. Just go up the stairs like you know where you're going. The kid's room is the second on the left." He tucked the little club away and settled himself back into his chair with a sigh. "If you need anything, I won't be sleeping anymore tonight, I can guarantee that."

Allen, stomach momentarily forgotten, turned back the way he had come, knowing that they could all discuss what had happened in detail when they got to his room. Here, now, was not the time or the place to ask questions.

Nor was it the time or the place to wonder why Kanda let Lavi's hand rest so tenderly against his back.

– – –

Kanda did not know if he should feel angry or thankful or content or just _ill_. Lavi was safe, which was something, and the idiot's memories were foggy in places, but more or less restored, which was something else, but there were quite a few problems, too. He could not shake the image of the Noah and Lavi on that bed together, could not rid himself of the feeling that, despite everything, that man really did care for the apprentice Bookman. Not that it mattered. Love did not stop wars or heal scars or save lives, it endangered people and hurt them, it put them at risk and made them do stupid, idiotic things. Like let enemies walk away to fight again another day. Like make him lean into the warmth of Lavi's shoulder and close his tired eye in the hope that it wouldn't open again now that the redhead was safe.

They came into the room at a snail's pace, mostly due to the fact that his strength was waning at last. Lavi was right, Kanda knew, about the fever and his injuries. There had not been enough time to heal anything, and the swordsman honestly wasn't willing to trade any more of his life for the sake of a speedy recovery – it currently seemed better to suffer the disgusting sickness of infection and live than turn into something far less useful the next time he was caught by a stray bullet. Which would happen. It would always, always happen.

There was only one bed, he noted absently, and three people. Bean Sprout's suitcase was at the end of it. Still, without a moment's hesitation, Lavi deposited Kanda on the edge of it and scurried away toward the bathroom, where he proceeded to take every hand-towel and washcloth and wet half of them, chattering to himself as he worked.

"I can't believe I forgot everything. Mostly everything. The import things. And then... Tyki..." His voice became very, very quiet, coming into the room as little more than a terrible whisper. "How did all of this happen?"

Bean Sprout looked at Kanda with one of those curious, worried expressions and lifted his ugly left hand to turn the Japanese man's face into the lamplight. Kanda let him, mostly because he wanted to know what the kid's reaction was going to be, not because he was worried himself. He was just tired and struggling to stay sitting, that was all.

"Do I...want to hear what happened to you, BaKanda?" The British boy's voice had too many layers of anger to be proper, but Kanda found that he did not mind. Sometimes, the brat wasn't half bad, after all.

"No. You know what happened already."

Allen's hand dropped away very slowly, uncertainly. There were no words for him to say, really, but he still made ready to. The chance was lost when Lavi came back with his burden of wet and dry towels, nothing even close to a smile on his usually bright features.

Kanda did not like that Allen had to help him out of his jacket and the tatters of his shirt, but his right arm was still more or less broken. He also did not like how quiet the room became when his companions saw the bruised and battered state of his chest, the red and purple and yellow. He shivered in the cool air and took a wet cloth from Lavi to dab at his face with – which stung and hurt and burned like all sorts of things. After just a moment of that, he felt that perhaps the room was pitching a bit and so lurched sideways, an act that brought his half-clean face into swift contact with the cool, soft fabric of the comforter.

"Yuu, you don't look so good."

"Shut up." Kanda did not think he wanted to look anything but asleep at the moment. What had happened, the details of that cellar, the things that had happened to Lavi – the things he had _said_ to that Noah – could wait for a moment. Or five. "Idiot."

The belated insult called a warm, gentle palm to place itself on the front of his forehead. Lavi's voice was a tiny, meek whisper when he spoke, filled with things that Kanda did not yet understand the repercussions of. "Let's patch you up and... Yuu..." The hand slipped away, but came back again on the swordsman's chest, light, unsure. "Yuu..." The tone had not changed while the redhead had been gone, not in the slightest. The tone of it sent a bolt of longing through Kanda's entire frame and peeled his left eye open, pushed his eyebrows together in an expression he could not imagine in his head.

The redhead hugged him, with careful arms and a slowness that meant Kanda could stop him.

"Yuu... the alleyway...I..." His voice wavered, and his mouth, which was just a half inch from Kanda's chest, gasped softly at the memory. The redheaded idiot was dangling on the edge of some sort of mental collapse, and yet he was trying to apologize. The swordsman did not honestly care. There were a million and one things wrong, so what was just one more? What had happened between the Noah and Lavi – that meant more than how Lavi had acted before he had known who Kanda was.

But Kanda did not think that he could hold any of that against Lavi for long. The illusion of love, the illusion of trust – if anyone was unfit to blame a person for believing an illusion, it was Kanda.

"Che. Tell me tomorrow."

"Yuu—"

"And stop calling me _that_. Bean Sprout will pick up on it."

Lavi made a snickering, half-strangled laughing sound and forgot all about how he was not smashing his face into Kanda's battered body. "I'm so glad you haven't changed much."

Kanda felt himself start to smirk. He also realized, rather belatedly, that his eye had closed despite his efforts to keep it open. "Tomorrow, idiot."

"Okay."

– – –

The moon had reached its zenith by the time Allen found himself curled up on a spare, beat up, ugly mattress he and Lavi had found in the very back of the closet and had thrown on the floor beside the actual bed. It surprised him a little that Kanda, fierce, angry, beautiful Kanda, looked so bedraggled and worn down and tired, and that Lavi, bright, cheerful, thoughtful Lavi, did not seem to notice the waves of relief coming from the swordsman. The British Exorcist felt oddly like the third wheel in some strange, broken relationship – except that the apprentice Bookman was in _his_ bed, holding him like some slightly oversized white teddy bear that would keep the redhead safe from the dark.

The pressure of those arms around Allen's waist was not at all strange or disconcerting. If anything, it was familiar and soothing. He had not slept next to anyone but Link for a very, very long time, and contrary to popular belief, no amount of bribery was going to get a nonsexual snuggle out of that man.

It also helped Allen deal with the physical relationship Lavi and Kanda seemed to have that he had never noticed. First there was the hug. And then, while they worked to bandage the swordsman's face and at least pad his bruises, and finally set his mangled right arm, there were the little brushes of fingertips, the subtle touch of skin and skin. Before, Allen did not think he would have cared. But now, when he wanted it to be _his_ skin touching Kanda, and he wanted to swordsman to _like_ it...

With a little groan of self-loathing, Allen rolled his face into his pillow. God, he was getting worse by the day – minute – second. At this point, it would be proper to wonder what had happened and where Lavi had been, not feel jealous about the little fractions of intimacy between Kanda and Lavi.

But it didn't matter what was proper. Allen wanted to throw himself at the swordsman's feet and scream out his feelings, whatever that meant.

Lavi's breath on the back of his ear was hot enough to make the British boy reach back and gently poke the redhead in the nose.

"Owie," came the whispered protest.

"Stop breathing on me," Allen hissed, and then took note of his tone. "Please."

"Sorry," Lavi mumbled, and nuzzled his face into the back of Allen's head like a cat showing its owner affection. "You could spoon me, but your chin would be shoulder blade level, and that just ain't comfy. And..." His arms tensed a little, "I can let you go, but I wanna hold on to something for a little. And you're little, hee."

Allen rolled his eyes only because no one could see him do it. It would have been terribly impolite to roll his eyes to Lavi's face, especially when he wanted to sigh exasperatedly on top of it. "I... understand," he said instead, and closed his eyes to the slight lie. But it was okay to lie if it kept them happy, wasn't it? "Are you... alright, Lavi? You don't have to tell me the details of what happened, but I realize that you forgot things, right? And you stayed there. With... him?"

For a moment, the British boy worried that he had said too much.

"I did a lot more than stay with Tyki, Allen. I ate with him and talked with him and..." Lavi's face snuggled more closely against the back of Allen's head. "I'm so stupid," he muttered, voice shaking with uncertainty. "I don't know what to think right now, too much has happened. And it isn't like I can just, not think, you know? And to top that all off, Yuu was in the fucking cellar for like, a day and half or something, having his guts ripped out right there where I couldn't see." This time, when his fingers clenched, it was around some of the fabric of Allen's sleeping shirt.

"He doesn't blame you, I don't think."

"Heh. He's too happy to have me back to blame me right now, but give 'im a week and I'll be the spawn of the Millennium Earl for a month. Hell, he might even demote me to Black Order Official."

"You think he's happy?"

"Uh... he let me hug him, didn't he?"

"In that case, you would have to do something worse than staying with a Noah to reach that level of hatred, I think."

"That's the thing, though – Yuu has a spectrum of hatred that's shaped like a circle. I was already right there on the top, this will push me around to the bottom."

"How does that work?"

"Angry Asian magic."

"Lavi!"

"It's just how he works. There's no way that he can like someone, and the more he likes them, the more he has to hate them. Get it?"

"Somehow, I think he hates everyone equally."

"That's because you don't really know Yuu-chan."

"Tell me about it."

"Would you two just fucking shut up!" Kanda's voice made them both go as rigid and silent as corpses, as did the shaking, pale hand that came up out of the covers and wrestled with the pillow an instant later. The swordsman, in the moonlight, was as pale as death, his eyes sunken into his gaunt face with exhaustion and only God knew what else. "You're both so Goddamn noisy, I bet that Noah can here you from across the street! And you know what else—" He took in a deeper breath and narrowed his one eye in preparation of insulting the two of them in some terrifyingly violent way.

Allen didn't feel like he deserved it, yet. "You and Lavi can be eyepatch twins until your eye grows back?"

For a split second, the swordsman floundered. He seemed like he might simply explode in a torrent of violence and anger, if given the time to recover. However, before he could reach out for Mugen, he coughed thickly, an act that made pain flash in his eye and sent his right hand scrambling to the bruised surface of his chest. The fit lasted longer than Allen was comfortable with, and ended with Kanda tensed on the mattress, his face tilted against the white sheets in obvious discomfort, a speckle of red decorating his lower lip. The swordsman didn't try to continue their argument. He simply lay there, panting and trembling, his left hand twisting in the covers until his knuckles turned white.

Lavi shifted, but it was Allen who left their bed to go to Kanda's side.

"Don't fucking touch me," Kanda growled without lifting his head. But there wasn't anger in his gaze – there were a lot of things, but there wasn't anything like madness burning behind his eye. "I'll be fine. Just leave me alone."

"Then what's wrong?" The British boy demanded, but did not lift his hand to feel the Japanese Exorcist's skin the way he wanted.

For a moment, Kanda looked miffed. "He..." There was anger in _that_ word, at least. "Stuck his hand in my guts, you nitwit. Tore them up like little bits of tissue paper." He cocked an eyebrow as if to ask if Allen could understand what that meant exactly. "It's blood poisoning. Do you need me to spell it out for you any better?" He turned his head against the sheet, breathing in quick, deep gasps. But even if he was falling apart, Allen noted, the swordsman wanted to have his piece. "Go to sleep. There's nothing you can do."

The white-haired teen blinked at him. Slowly, fearing that he might be burned, knowing that Lavi was right there, watching him, wondering if everything would be alright in the end, Allen sank down on the edge of Kanda's bed. Gingerly, he let his left hand come down on the very back of the swordsman's neck, just enough of a touch to feel the heated skin beneath the veil of Kanda's hair. "Kanda." He was fully aware that the Japanese man was refusing to meet his eyes. "Lavi and I are here. We will do anything we can to take care of you."

_I will do anything I can._

"Che."

"Let me get another blanket. Lavi, will you get water? As bad as this is going to be, we should make it as smooth a recovery as an immortal prick can have, yeah?"

The redhead was up and nodding in an instant, the tiredness, the confusion in his expression, finally given a purpose that did not require him to contemplate in silence while his bed-mate attempted to sleep. "Leave it to me, Yuu-chan. We'll have you so well taken care of, you won't even have to mention how sick you got in your report."

"...You're both idiots."

– – –

**Yay an update? Thoughts? Rants? Flames?**


	17. Just go and Leave this all Behind

**Niamh's computer ate a bunch of reviews again. I'll try to find them slowly through the week, but no promises. I'm lame and lazy and busy and tired. So... I'm sorry.**

**Warnings: BL. Etc. Poor Lavi. Poor Allen. Poor Kanda. Poor Tyki. What have a I done to my plot?**

**DISCLAIMER: Hoshino Katsura owns all.**

– – –

Seventeen: Just go and Leave this all Behind

She found him in the living room, though Tyki did not remember how exactly he had gotten there. He had been in the bedroom, thinking about what he had done, what he had let happen, how it had all fallen into place, and then the world had shifted on its side and turned inside out. The hurt had turned to blind rage. He had lashed out at anything and everything, and yet he hadn't destroyed the house like he might have before. The bedroom window was broken. The lamp by the door was cracked. But mostly, Tyki realized belatedly, he had been loud without much actual expulsion of power, and yet he had worn himself into a bedraggled heap of tired flesh all the same.

The fire had gone out, at some point, but he hadn't noticed. In fact, he did not notice anything until Road's fingers brushed through his hair and her tiny, childlike arms draped themselves around his shoulders. He noticed then that the sun had come up at the back of the house. He had spent the entire night, and much of the morning, completely alone.

"Tell me what happened, Tyki." Road's voice was like that of an old woman seeking to sooth a struggling child, heavy with age that was never reflected in her form. Her shoulder was as sold as stone under his forehead. "Tell me what the Exorcist did."

He did. He told her about the swordsman and about Lavi meeting him, about the blade that Tyki had forgotten about until it was much too late, about his decision that he would not kill the redhead simply because of how he felt. And he told her that, too. How his chest hurt, how he wanted Lavi, how angry it made him that the apprentice Bookman had not even attempted to talk his comrade into leaving without him. Tyki understood the boy's logic, of course, but he was a selfish creature. What did it matter if someone else thought Lavi dead if it meant they were together despite everything else?

Road smiled at him when he was finished. It was the kind of smile that made him feel like a fool.

"You'll see him again, Tyki." She said with such certainty, he had to wonder if there was something she knew. "Because you do want to, don't you? Even after everything he did?" She shook her head, closed her eyes. There was something decidedly adult about it, something that made Tyki feel small and silly, and yet like she understood like no one else, not even Sheryl, would ever be able to.

"I don't know what will happen when I find him, but yes." Tyki responded at a whisper.

Road simply nodded. "And in the meantime?"

He hadn't thought of it. He had only thought of what had happened and what would happen, not what might occur between. A small, cruel smile started at the corners of his mouth. "How long has it been since we made a show over finding the Heart?"

She smiled back at him, though there was still a shadow in her eyes. "Quite long enough."

– – –

Yuu didn't sleep until just before dawn, and even then his rest was fitful at best. Twice on Lavi's watch the redhead had to shake and talk the swordsman into continuing to breathe, and both times Yuu didn't outright thank him, but looked grateful afterward. It was likely that Yuu would wake again even if he died, but not dying was better overall, they both knew. Or maybe, if Lavi let himself think about it, it was better not to die _like this_ when so much death waited.

By mid-morning, Kanda was bleary-eyed, though he seemed to have gone from completely septic to about how he had been before the worst had began. His breathing slowed, and he could follow the little monologues that the apprentice Bookman had with himself, and a thin, shining layer of sweat spread across his forehead. Lavi found himself smiling softly down at that one midnight-gray-blue eye, and found it frowning purposely back at him.

"Good morning, Sweety," Lavi chimed in a quiet whisper. "Did you want tea and crumpets, or coffee and scones?"

The look that Yuu gave him was murder personified. His right eyebrow twitched with restrained violence while his tongue clicked behind his teeth in a muddled insult, his upper lip curled with disdain. It was an expression that Lavi lived to see.

"Fuck you."

"Sorry, too early."

Kanda rolled his eye like it might physically hurt the redhead if he did it hard enough. "With the brat." He jerked his head in the direction of Allen's half-sleeping body on the mattress not five feet away, his face turning suddenly amused. "Crooked."

"Ouch, Yuu-chan. That hurt me right in my nothing."

"Is that what you're calling it now?"

Allen made a low, sleepy growling sound, and opened just one eye at the two of them. After a short moment of studying them – his silver eye lingered on Yuu for some reason – he yawned and pushed himself up to sitting, sending his tousled white hair into mad fits of static as he moved. With a strange, lazy sort of smile, he met Kanda's gaze and tilted his head to the side, all sorts of bright and adorable and bloodthirsty in the morning light. "Oh, I see, Lavi's back so I don't get the good morning snog, hm? Ah well. Back to daydreams of Lenalee, then..."

For a moment, Lavi thought he might have heard wrong, but a pillow went sailing over the left of the bed and collided rather ineffectively with Allen's face. "Shut up. I was making a point."

"Eh?" The redhead turned to Yuu, who looked as if he now regretted throwing away his only means of neck support. Without preamble, Lavi shifted until the swordsman was leaning on him – because that was where Kanda belonged and it didn't matter that Allen was in the room right now, it just felt right. There was a moment of awkwardness and a line of tension in Yuu's neck, and then both melted away with a lift of the youngest Exorcist's eyebrows. "What's this about snogging?" Lavi prodded, and pretended to be inspecting the bandage around the swordsman's right eye while he asked.

"Che."

"Mr. Misunderstood, here—"

"He wanted me to talk about _us_, so I kissed him." Yuu said it so flatly that it stopped Allen from going on and brought a blush to the British boy's cheeks so bright, Lavi could see it from his peripheral vision. The tone in Yuu's voice, however, made it obvious that it had really been that simple – and that Allen was being a sensitive teenager, also. "Stupid bean wouldn't shut up after that, either. Ditched him in the hospital we left that Crow member in. Ringo, or whatever."

"Link." Lavi corrected with a little smile. It didn't bother him, he realized, that Yuu might have been lonely while he was gone, nor did it do more than tighten his chest at the thought of Allen and the swordsman becoming close as a result. He had no reason to pay the little spark of white anger in his chest any heed when there had been so many worse things between himself and Tyki.

"It doesn't matter." Yuu sighed, and his whole body seemed to relax even further. He had every right to be exhausted.

Allen fumbled his way off of the mattress and headed for his suitcase, a deep frown pulling at his lips. "We need to get back to him as soon as we can – for all I know, he has half the Order thinking I've betrayed them and fallen off the face of the Earth. That cheese-eating surrender monkey Leverrier will have me crucified and vivisected by the time we get back..."

"Cheese-eating..." Yuu started, seeming confused.

"He can't do both, Allen. You'll die before he gets to one of them."

The boy looked up at Lavi with sarcastic eyes and opened his suitcase. "Lovely."

Lavi looked down at the Japanese Exorcist and decided that, for the time being, he would pretend that nothing at all had changed between them. That meant that talking to the swordsman in small, understandable sentences was called for. "A cheese-eating surrender monkey is a Frenchman, and Leverrier sounds pretty French. If I called you a yellow slanteye, I'd be calling you Asian."

"Shut it, Cyclops."

"Watch it Yuu, you're all bedridden and stuff. Besides, you're the one with one eye at the moment, silly—"

Allen made a rather miffed sound as he riffled through his things, eventually looking up with a clean shirt and a pair of underwear. "I'm taking a shower and getting breakfast. You two control yourselves before I get back."

– – –

Kanda hated to be useless. What was worse, however, was being more than useless but less than perfect. The sunlight was sharp and white and cold, draining the will to move out of him, making even the slightest noise ring like a painful bell in his head. The dirty glass in the window did not help in the slightest. The sound of Lavi's voice, textured like course gravel and high like yellow chalk, however, sent little thrills of warmth dancing across his skin, familiar like the caress of hungry fingernails or the wanton touch of an exhausted sigh. That made being one quarter dead more bearable, somehow. Even if Allen was the one who was silently working to take care of him, it was the apprentice Bookman's voice that made the swordsman close his eyes and face the feelings in his gut.

Those stupid emotions were more troublesome than his wounds, and about a hundred times more persistent.

"...like I said, he's here, taking care of Yuu." Lavi was saying in a voice that was tinted by a lair's smile. "If Allen wanted to run off and join the Noah family, he woulda. Not that you can take _my_ word for it, I was sleepin' with the enemy, you know? Heh heh."

Kanda pushed aside the cold tightening in his chest and swallowed. Was that true? How close had Lavi gotten to Tyki? He didn't care. Not really. But there was still the past to be dealt with, and a hundred things that needed to be explained, and those things would require time. Healing would require time. Time better spent tied up in situations too intimate to be comfortable, too close to not be betrayal, and all of his half-human existence pledged to just one more instant of contact and ecstasy and selfishness. He shivered. It had been far too long. It was hard not to think about it with Lavi's voice turning in a slow, sweet decrescendo down his spine.

"...is he finally sleeping?" It must have looked that way, considering his eyes were closed.

Maybe Allen nodded. In any case, the bed dipped and a wide, familiar hand came to rest on the crest of his hip.

"We can put off leaving until tonight. Any Noah around here won't think to look so close – we would be long gone if we were smart – and Yuu needs this." His fingers moved in an oddly suggestive little squeeze. It was almost enough to make Kanda break the illusion and turn to him, tell him to do it properly. "Fuck, after yesterday, I think we all need some sleep, but him..."

"He really missed you."

"I know." There was so much certainty in the redhead's voice.

The darkness outside of Kanda's eyelids became even darker, likely from the closing of the shutters. "Why?"

Lavi didn't answer for a long, quiet moment. Instead, his body changed angle until it was laid out against Kanda's back, warm and soft and just a little too close to be friendly. The apprentice Bookman didn't try to hug him or draw him in – such things would wake a sleeping bedmate and that wasn't the boy's intention. "Because he and I are close." Lavi whispered, and his breath spread against the back of Kanda's neck with the words. "Were close. God." He seemed to laugh, only there was no amusement in the sound. "It's easy for me to pretend that nothing happened while I was gone, but it _feels_ wrong, you know? A lot of stuff happened. I did a lot of stupid things, but they didn't seem stupid at the time. Not until it was too late. But at the same time, when I remember what I did, where I was, that stuff, it's like... it's like I really meant it, like I really felt it. And that makes me want to feel for Yuu and everybody else, too."

Allen made a sort of agreeing sound, not that he could possibly understand that giant lump of Bookman jargon if he wanted to.

"I don't know who or what I want, but I know that I screwed up. I know I can't go back. And I know that, when I figure out what happened, if Bookman doesn't kill me, I might be happy." Lavi was talking to himself now, or maybe to Kanda, the swordsman could tell by how those fingers tightened against his hip. "It's telling the truth and confessing what I did, that makes me feel...bad." He broke off in an awkward laugh in an attempt to bring them back to conversation. The sound was like cool fingers on the back of Kanda's head, but the breath that produced it felt exactly opposite.

"Lavi...what did you do, exactly?" Allen prodded in a whisper.

"In every way that there is..." The redhead turned his head down so that the round of his forehead rested securely against Kanda's spine, bone to bone, the way he liked to apologize when they were alone. "I betrayed him."

So it was like that.

"And Bookman."

"If that's true, between the two of them you'll die quickly."

The redhead's breath came out in a laughing sort of puff. "There are a million things worse than dying, Allen. Will you go get breakfast already, I'm starving." It was Lavi's way of saying that he wanted to be left alone.

The British boy took the hint and slipped out of the room without more than a moment of protest, his voice quiet and distant as if he were thinking about food already. His departure left the apprentice Bookman and the half-sleeping swordsman alone together, the redhead's forehead still pressed to the curve of Kanda's back.

Kanda counted to thirty-five before he broke the silence that settle like a warm, soothing blanket over the two of them. "You fucked him, didn't you?" It came out differently than he had intended, mostly because he was tired beyond reason and his lungs did not like speaking. But the point was still conveyed. He felt Lavi lean painfully into his spine. "You just let him do whatever he wanted, and then some. I bet your stupid mouth wouldn't stop until he did it, too." That little spark of anger fanned into a flame and Kanda struggled with it, struggled with the mental image of how those two had looked on that bed, the words he had overheard between the two of them. "I don't care."

"Yuu?" There was something oddly broken about the way his name sounded.

"I do not care." He said the words again, and felt the fire twist and morph in his chest until it exposed the hurt that lay beneath it. Kanda shivered. "Do you think running into someone's arms when you're alone makes you a traitor? Do you think I care that you said you loved him because you _felt_ like it at the time? Che. You're here now, that's all that matters. Capable of anything but love." The last part he did not mean to say, or even to think, but it still seeped through his lips in a terribly honest whisper. He felt Lavi shift and so tried to shift with him, the warmth against his back withdrew and returned as hands that rolled him, a leg that circled up over his hips and laid him prone, the redhead suddenly above him. The change was momentarily uncomfortable. The swordsman's stomach was not in a state to be sat on anytime soon.

"That isn't true." Lavi looked him directly in the face as he spoke the words, even if his expression belied every twinge of uncertainty he felt. His two eyes, the right slightly lighter than the left, searched Kanda's gaze like they might be looking for a needle in a haystack, desperate and quick. The redhead's hands closed on the Japanese Exorcist's shoulders. "And it's way more complicated than you're letting it be. I didn't just fuck him, Yuu. And you know as well as I do that it drives you nuts thinking about me that close to anybody. Especially when I never told you..." The apprentice Bookman tightened his hands on Kanda's shoulders. "Look, I know I felt for him. Still do. And I know I feel for you. But it's different. It's all wound up in months of letting people die and years of trying to figure you out, you know? If love is what made him let me go, I don't know if I feel that for him. I don't know if I'd do the same thing. If love is what made you come after me, what made you live through the shit he put you through, I don't know if I feel that for you, either. But I know that I _can_ love." Lavi's voice dropped to a hardly audible whisper. "But what does that help when I _can't_..."

Kanda sighed. He was too tired for this. Far too tired. So he did what he thought was right at the moment, even if it was painful and did not solve anything at all.

His left arm circled Lavi's shoulders and pulled him down, guided him closer, and did not stop until he could close his eye and feel the tickle of the redhead's breath on his lips. "Idiot." He wanted to arch backward, to press his mouth to Lavi's, but it was too soon for something like that, he could feel it in the tension in the other boy's shoulders. "It never mattered to me before that you didn't love me, so why would I give a damn now?"

Lavi gasped softly, hotly, like the words were enough to burn.

"You're...safe." Kanda heard himself say, and this time the idea seemed to resonate in him, it sank into his chest and his mind and was _true_. Lavi was safe. The idiot was fine. It really had been too long. "Lavi..."

It was slow and agonizing and strange, but it was still a kiss, tender and hungry and unfamiliar. There was no fight for control, no time to wonder what it meant, no tingle of electricity, or slowing of the Earth's rotation. It simply happened. Kanda did arch then, despite how tired he was, and he felt Lavi pause as if uncertain, felt the apprentice Bookman tense with apprehension. But there was still a second kiss, and a third, and Kanda's left hand turned to a ghost of a touch on Lavi's neck. He did not want to force the redhead to continue, even if he felt like a starving man faced with a feast of plenty.

When they broke apart, the swordsman found himself with his eyes still closed, breath moving in deep billows, his blood roaring in his ears. Too soon for either of them, he knew, and still he wanted it.

Lavi's forehead against his was as familiar as it was frustrating, but he did not say so. Instead, he listened to the harsh sound of his own breathing and the slow, nearly silent counter-beat of Lavi's.

"I'm sorry." Lavi could just hardly break the silence. "I fucked up and I'm sorry. But I'm back now. Or maybe I'll never be back. I don't know. But I'm sorry."

Kanda almost laughed. "You think that's what I want? You think I need you to apologize?" He didn't open his eyes. He didn't want to open his eyes, for fear of what might come out of them. Instead, he wound his fingers in the red hair he had imagined so often, and breathed in the scent he had tried so hard to remember. It was like every dream he had had about Lavi's return, only he couldn't welcome him properly. "I don't care what you did. Even if it hurts. But I heard what he said to you. That you'll see each other again. That's what I care about. I care about how many times you're willing to offer that man yourself on a silver platter just because he saved you after he tried to kill you."

"But Yuu—"

"Che. I care that there's him between us. I care that you can't kiss me without thinking about him. I care that you don't know who you're betraying."

"Yuu—"

He was not done. He had to say it now or he would never say it. He had to show just the smallest shred of vulnerability, because he could not lose Lavi. "I care if you do not want me by your side."

The redhead did not protest. His fingers touched Kanda's hair, and stroked it with shaking caresses, slow and tender. "What am I supposed to do, Yuu? Am I supposed to just run with whatever I feel like I did before? Without direction, blind and confused, but living on that raw emotion like I'll die without it?" Lavi stopped short and barked out a harsh, self-deprecating laugh. "Please, Yuu just..."

He was desperate. And Kanda could not stop himself from being half-desperate himself.

Without further words from either of them, the two settled against the mattress once more, Lavi sliding from Kanda's hips with careful ease. The swordsman used his good arm to fold the apprentice Bookman against his chest and offer whatever comfort he could, whatever reassurance he could, simply because there was nothing else he could do at the moment. Kanda wanted more, but he would not hurt either of them. Not for his own sake. Perhaps the distance between them, however small, would once again show Lavi the things he had wanted so much to change more than a year ago. Or maybe, Kanda thought, and cursed his body for being too weak to remain alert, they would simply fall asleep from the closeness, and melt together so the distance would not matter any more.

– – –

The day was far too fast, and far too full of bloodshed. It was easy enough for Tyki to know where Lavi had gone – the two Innocence wielding Exorcist's with him made the remaining Akuma in the town antsy and nervous whenever they came too close. When Road left him, Tyki was able to fake a smile at her. His thoughts were in a more logical order, even if he felt no more sure of himself than he had before she had taken him out in search of Finders and equally easy targets.

She was not gone an hour and Tyki found himself looking up at the building he knew the Exorcist's were staying at. She had not told him in that painfully adult voice that now was not the time for sacrifices to lose themselves to their humanity no more than two hours prior, and still, he found himself there. Anger and a thirst for revenge would have been acceptable. Exhaustion and turmoil were not.

He threw pebbles at each windowsill, and hid in the shadows until each room's occupants came to see what might be pecking at the glass. The sun was more or less set by the time he found the right one, nothing but scarlet tendrils of the faded disk grazed along the lowest clouds, casting the sky in shades of purple and pink. The periwinkle clouds contrasted too heavily with the flash of red that poked from the inn. Tyki almost did not step from the darkness in time for the apprentice Bookman to see him.

They looked at each other for a time, without speaking. Lavi nodded uncertainly, and then vanished once more into the half-lit shadows inside.

Tyki waited with his back pressed to the nearest building, feeling the cold emanate from the brick and through his suit. He felt vaguely tired, but the feeling seemed less important when he caught sight of the apprentice Bookman at the end of the alleyway, his arms wrapped securely around his shoulders.

The boy's expression was unreadable, a sort of neutral combination of fear and hurt and longing. Tyki swallowed hard and pushed himself away from his hiding place, the better to let the growing moonlight fall over him and illuminate his pocketed hands. For a time, the two of them stood without moving, the silver and gold of the ending twilight casting their shadows in long blue lines between the two buildings. The shadows never touched – Lavi's stretched out into the street in front of the inn while Tyki's inevitably faded before it could reach the boy's feet.

"I told Allen I'd be right back, so I can't stay." It was just a whisper, and the words carried with them all sorts of unwillingness. Lavi shifted on his feet, but did not come closer.

"Did I hurt you?" Tyki whispered back, and found that he really was curious and sorry if he had. To his surprise, Lavi's eyes widened at him, their perfect green flashing like fire.

"You did a lot of things, Tyki, but no, my arm is fine." The boy didn't turn his eyes away even for a moment.

Tyki closed his. "I know that I cannot convince you to simply not go back to the Order. But..." He hated that he was so human sometimes, even if those times were less often than they had once been. At the moment, just hearing the younger man's voice was almost enough to make Tyki never want to kill again. The feeling roused something dark and bloodthirsty in him, and sent him rocking onto the balls of his feet. If Lavi would not come with him, why not go through with what he had originally wanted? Why not keep the boy's heart and nothing else? "I just... without you..." Tyki had had some idea of what he had wanted to say when he had first thought to come but now, with the redhead in front of him, he hadn't the slightest clue. His tongue had turned to something thick and cold in his mouth, and the words had slipped away like sand through a sieve.

Lavi shook his head, and cracked a smile that was neither amused nor apologetic. "Without me, what? I told you, I need to think." The redhead brought a hand up to his forehead before racking his fingers through his hair in a viscous motion that likely would have displaced his eyepatch had he been wearing it. "I'm sorry, but I don't know enough about how I feel to tell you anything. I know that you're important to me, Tyki, but there are a lot of important people in my life. I can't just... pick without thinking about it." He sighed, and the exhaustion that filled his face was obviously real. The boy had been through too much the last few days. Tyki felt suddenly like he had been selfish.

But he was selfish. Pleasure was always selfish.

It was only four impossibly quick steps to be behind the redhead, and only the slightest movement of his arm to have his hand pressed to the boy's mouth, stilling his lips, cutting off his air. At first, Lavi's body went deliciously rigid, a muffled sound of protest in his throat, and then he seemed to gather himself, to wait, to _relax_. Tyki placed his second arm around the boy's chest, holding them flush.

"I've done a bit of thinking, Lavi..." Tyki found that he wanted, somehow, to make the limp back against his chest tense again. "And it strikes me that if you really want him that badly, why should I tear you apart? You can keep him if you like. In the basement, or in the Ark. It doesn't really matter, as long as that sword of his turns to powder." The dark was writhing beneath his skin, Tyki thought, willing him to just snap the boy's neck and have it done with. But no. He loved Lavi, even if the emotion was not as pure as it might have once been. "As long as I can still have you there, beside me..." Tyki relished the little shiver that went up Lavi's back. "It wouldn't be sharing, I don't think, and if it is, then surely he would have the worse half of the deal but... I'm rambling. The point is that without you, without my darling Bookman with me, I might lose myself in blood again, or simply forget that I wanted to let you go. I am... hanging onto the barest threads of my humanity, love, do you think I would lie about something like that?"

Lavi's right hand tugged at Tyki's rather gently, as if it would remind the Noah that the redhead could not breathe at the moment.

"It may not be proper for a person to hurt and caress with the same hands – the same weapons – but that is all I have. I love doing both. It is what defines me. And now that I love you, you, who I naturally despise, I cannot fathom what it would be like to not have you. The idea of it makes me ache for so many things..." Tyki smiled too widely at the fingernails biting into his skin. "For blood, for death, for sleep, for warmth... and I haven't the slightest idea how to sate those desires. But when I'm with you, even now, the need is just an itch or a tickle, and your presence soothes me." He felt Lavi try to trash, try to get air, and tightened his hold over the boy's nose and mouth. Tyki only partially understood why he wanted that power, and only half-thought of the repercussions of it. If he moved now, the redhead would be a noisy coughing mess and attract attention. He didn't want that.

"When you are with me," Tyki felt the boy begin to sag against him, and closed his eyes, knowing it was far too late to let go. "There doesn't _have_ to be two of me."

– – –

Allen was worried by the expression that Kanda made at the ceiling, and even more worried by the fever that still ravaged the swordsman's body, even if Kanda seemed not to notice. The fever was just strong enough to make Kanda weak, just high enough to make him slower to think than normal, and just subtle enough that the swordsman could not possibly realize his cheeks were lightly rouged by it. That, perhaps, was what worried Allen the most.

Kanda blushing. Oh, the possibilities.

It was just the British boy's luck that Lavi would excuse himself from the room at the exact moment that Kanda decided he might as well do a series of laps around the room, his restless nature winning out over self-preservation. Allen was beginning to wonder if Kanda had any desire to preserve himself at all, what with how he moved even when his legs shook, and cursed himself in deadly whispers when he nearly crumbled into the dresser.

Allen did not think twice about catching him.

So it was, some three minutes after Lavi had left the room, that Allen found himself with both hands balled into tight fists on the front of the swordsman's loose-fitting shirt, and Kanda's right hand tangled in his hair.

"Bean—" It sounded like the Japanese boy was going to tell him to let go and leave him be. Allen was not about to do either.

"Be quiet," Allen rocked a little on the balls of his feet, and watched Kanda's single visible eye widen at the violence in his whisper. It was not too difficult to hold the swordsman standing, but it was difficult not to think of a thousand insinuated things, all of them a thousand times more intimate than the brush of his knuckles on Kanda's chest. The fact that Kanda's hand, which was large and hot and terribly bad at closing, was pressed to the back of Allen's skull made the boy want to lean in and brush his lips across the swordsman's. "I get that you're restless and I understand that you'd rather have Lavi with you right now, but you'll forgive me if I'm a twinge disgusted by your intimacy and lack of self-restraint. You need to lie down. You're so bloody weak right now, I could overpower you if I weren't such a nice person. And here you are, undoing all the healing from last night." Allen clicked his tongue and narrowed his eyes at Kanda's half-surprised features. "This isn't a battlefield. I don't give a damn if you leap in front of a bullet to save a little girl – but this is pointless."

Kanda looked as if he wanted to protest, but he didn't. Instead, he worked his right hand to Allen's shoulder and got his feet more or less under him. "I can't follow him, so what am I supposed to do? Sit here while he goes out to meet his boyfriend?" The way the swordsman growled the words and narrowed his eyes made his cutting gaze burn like a blade of ice. "You naïve git."

"Shut up." It was an angry hiss.

"Why should I?"

Allen almost allowed himself to sneer. "Because I don't like to think about the two of you snogging in the dark, and I don't like to think about what might happen if Lavi gives up whatever happened between him and Tyki."

The confusion in Kanda's eyes and the furrowing on his brow made Allen risk a small smile.

"I don't like being jealous, Kanda."

Realization, the kind that made the swordsman's eyes shine like bluish onyx, lit Kanda's face for a moment. "You like me." He said rather baldly. "You actually like me."

"Admittedly a great deal of my attraction to you is how bloody good you look in your jacket, but yes. Or without it. Or wearing nothing at all."

"Che. You think that one kiss meant something?"

"No. But I think this one does."

It was hard and forceful and filled with all the violence and yearning that Allen felt, even if Kanda leaned away in an effort to end the contact as soon as it had started. Allen was not going to let that happen. Instead, he put everything he knew into that bit of content, delving into memories that weren't his to find techniques that might bring the swordsman to his knees, keeping their bodies close with the hands he still had twined in Kanda's clothes. When the fingers that were wound into his hair tried to wrench him away he fought the weak attempt, and a growl formed in the back of his throat.

When the British boy finally pulled away, the expression on Kanda's face told him that his death would be slow and painful, but Allen could not find it in himself to care. His heart clamped in his chest as if there was no blood in him, seizing whatever it could. "You're stupid and a great big arse sometimes, and I know that there are a billion and one things between you and Lavi that I can't understand. Honestly, I realize that it's stupid of me to even entertain the idea of being with anyone, yet..." Allen lost a bit of his gusto, and excused the loss by shifting them both close to the bed. "I can't not try. I won't pretend because that makes it easier on everyone else. Especially not a great big jerk like you."

To his mild shock and absolute horror, Kanda laughed.

"You're fucking serious."

Allen frowned as he placed Kanda more or less on the mattress, and felt his face fall further when the Japanese man's hands slipped from his clothes. "You think I would lie?"

"I think you're a martyr complex and a twelve year old. You don't have the time or the resources to think about sex, Bean Sprout." The way the swordsman sighed, the way he brought his hand up to touch his own face and rub at his temple, was almost enough to make the British boy angry. Instead, the tired eyes that looked up at Allen sapped the fight from him, and the thoughtful tilt of Kanda's face sent a strange little sliver of understanding slipping into the corners of Allen's mind. "Che. All of this – Lavi, you... it's like a Goddamn romance novel, isn't it? Someone pulled our names out of a fucking hat and handed off hearts to whoever they wanted." He shook his head, a strangely amused smile curving his tired lips. "It's bullshit."

"What?" Allen prompted lamely.

"Between the three of us you'd think at least one of us liked Lenalee."

Allen could not stop himself from laughing. It was true, which might have been the most amusing part. For Kanda to have any feelings at all for Lavi, for Lavi to have any feelings at all for Tyki, for Allen to be madly in lust with Kanda – it was terribly irrational and unlikely, and somehow did not revolve around the one girl they were all familiar with. For just a moment he forgot that Kanda was who he was – that Kanda was wounded and sick and angry and violent – and simply laughed as if he were alone, the thought too strange to stifle. When the British Exorcist had regained control of himself, he found Kanda making a truly unfamiliar expression at him, the corners of his mouth lifted in the barest hint of a smile. "I'm sorry, Kanda, but as cute as Lenalee is, and as hard as she hits, there's still..." Allen waved his hands ineptly. "_You_. And all of your... you. I know I'm not being very articulate, but the point is that you're stuck with me, one way or another."

"Che."

"And I'll take that as something along of the lines of, 'you are still a brat and I still do not like you.'"

Kanda's left eye rolled with enough intensity to make up for the lack of motion in the right. "I meant that you're still stubborn and stupid and twelve, so I guess there isn't a lot I can do to convince you that it's a lost cause."

"It is not a lost cause." Allen corrected, and found that he was terribly comfortable talking about this now that it was in the open. The tension, the uncertainty, and the guilt had all melted away with his confession. The laughter, too, had helped. "It's not a lost cause until one of us dies, and we both know _that_ isn't going to happen. You can't and I won't."

"Great."

"Yes, it is. Hope is great."

"Whatever." Kanda sighed again, and relaxed a bit into the bed, sagged against the mattress. He seemed tired. He seemed weary in ways that made Allen wonder if the swordsman was older than he said. His single dark eye glimmered like a polished piece of onyx before it was shaded out of sight, the lashes that covered it feather soft against Kanda's cheek. That one blink might have lasted a short lifetime. "I don't care. I don't... you're bean sprout. We fight, you don't... do shit like _like_ me."

Allen smiled one his soft, sweet, genuine smiles, and shook his head. "Then what? Shall I wait it out while you decide where you want to stab me? Or shall I show you my arse?"

For a moment, Kanda didn't get it, and then his eye narrowed. "Once you admit to something, you don't let it go, do you?"

"I tend not to let go of anything – admitted to, held on to, sucked on—"

"Bean sprout."

"Which isn't to say that I'm trying to seduce you with those ideas. I mean, I wouldn't mind it, but it's not like my goal is to _have_ something in my mouth – besides of food, of course because I love food, which isn't to say that I don't have some kind of feeling for you that I can't quite but my finger—"

"Walker." It sounded so strange, so perfect, that the British Exorcist fell immediately silent. He clung to the intonation, to the soft sound of the L, and waited to see if he would hear it again. "Quit before I gut you, Old Man."

The return to familiarity felt like solid ground to stand on. With a curt nod, Allen made a vague sort of gesture at Kanda and the bed, intent on changing the subject. It was good to have things out in the open, yes, but lingering on them for too long would simply make them awkward. It was a start. Even if they continued to hit each other and call each other names, even if they only remained as close as they had come in Lavi's absence, it was a bond of honesty. A bond that Allen could feel. There was something small there, even if it remained undefinable. "You stay in bed this time, alright? You heal fast, but not that fast. When you came back and I saw what had happened... I thought of how long it took you to recover after Victorio. I'm not really the right person to tell you this but—" Allen stopped there. It was a delicate bond. He did not want to break it.

Kanda did not quite frown. "Che. You sound like the other idiot. Shut up."

For the moment, Allen did as he was told.

– – –

He felt like he had been run over by a train, but he knew that that could not be the case. Trains did not suddenly appear in alleyways and trains did not leave him feeling like he had pneumonia. Trains did not stroke his hair with delicate, sweeping fingers and cradle his head in their lap.

The memory was slow to come. It trickled back into his mind like thick syrup, with the rhythm of that hand in his hair, with vague details. His first reaction was not to feel frightened or angry but rather to feel comfortable – without his eyes, this was the same as it had been. Without thinking about how he had come to wake to a weak body and sore lungs, Lavi pressed a palm to the one moving through his hair and stilled it, then slowly wound his fingers around the palm. Tyki's hand. If he ignored what it had done, what it had killed, what it had hurt...

But no. He couldn't ignore it all. It wasn't right to ignore it all.

"I meant to be gone before you recovered." Tyki said the words in what might have been one of the least threatening voices Lavi had ever heard him use. He seemed powerless. The velvet, the soft, dangerous texture was gone. He was hollow. "I thought that if I let you go, you would scream until the swordsman came running. And I thought that you would leave as soon as you woke." The hand began to move again, but only as a motion within those restrained fingers. The rhythm was the same.

Lavi didn't speak or open his eyes or wonder what the soft thing was that he was curled on. He only paid attention to the way the Noah spoke, to the desperation in his words. There was more at stake here than a heart. There was so very much more.

"I meant to take you with me so I could make you suffer. I meant to kill you if you recalled your past. I meant to let you return if you did not want to stay with me." The fingers faltered. "I meant to hate you. I meant to love you. I meant to kill you all." They regained their pattern as Tyki's voice began to tremble in their place. "But my intentions don't mean anything anymore."

"Tyki..." Lavi let his eyes come open and noted the unfamiliar room, the dusky windows. It was not a cell or a dungeon, but they were not where they had been. It was a room designed for sitting and talking, with a warm hearth and two long black couches, one of which the two of them shared.

The Noah was not looking at him, but rather into the flames of the fire, his molten eyes reflecting the light in perfect sharpness. "I came to this place wanting to return to the human I was – the half-human. My friends, the ones with me when I met you, have not seen me in far too long simply because it is difficult to be that person with this skin and these scars and these thoughts. If my part in our war was finished, perhaps the Earl would leave me to find that part of me while he ravaged the corpse of the world we left behind. But then..." Tyki shifted enough to look down at Lavi, to meet his gaze with irises filled with so many emotions, so many fears and pains, so many unspoken horrors and desires, that it was difficult for the apprentice Bookman to understand how one person could contain so many feelings. But beneath it all, behind the mask of human emotions and human desires and human shape, there was something decidedly dark and hungry, more evil and destructive than anything Lavi had seen in any war. "I fell for you."

Shuddering, Lavi turned his face away.

This man who he knew and yet did not know had more power over him than the redhead had ever wanted. What did Bookman matter when compared to this? What did anything matter? Lavi didn't want to think about it yet. "You fell for me." He repeated, hating his unsteady voice.

"Me. The thing that isn't human but isn't Noah but acts like both. The thing your Walker-boy created."

"I'm sorry."

The words were like a wall between them. In the stillness the crackling of the fire seemed like a thunderstorm.

"Time is what you asked me for, I know that." Tyki still did not sound the way he had before, and instead his tone spoke of uncertainty and loneliness. "I mean to give you that time. But everyday that you take, every time I remember what was and what isn't, I lose something. Today, Road and I murdered more Finders than we had any right to, even in war. And I felt nothing from it." His fire-lit eyes closed. "She made me think it would help."

"Tyki..."

"I didn't really want to do it."

Lavi gave up trying to understand. Though he could guess when and what the Noah meant, he did not want to try. He shifted himself up enough to lean rather delicately against the older man's shoulder, the familiar scent of cigarettes momentarily reminding him of happier times. At first he simply reclined awkwardly, until an arm curved around his back to draw him closer to the Noah's side.

"Can I stay with you, for now?" Lavi whispered, and twined his cold fingers in Tyki's, perfectly aware of what they had done and unable to pull away at the moment.

"Of course, Lavi. For as long as you like."

– – –

**Do tell me what you think, please? I want to know if you're all hating me for this love square bit, or if you're going D8 "YES. It's so horrid, but YES!"**

**Next chapter: ACTUAL plot! Not romantic PLOT! Bwahahaha! *scurries to work***


	18. Underneath

**Okay. So. Yeah. Updateness. What to say? It's been a while. Once again, I didn't answer a lot of reviews – there's this really long one that I'm gonna find and reply to once I post, because it deserves one really bad – because life is really crazy right now. I'm trying to move out and have two lives and go to Pride in San Fran this weekend, so I'm going a little bonkers, I guess. I'm not quitting or anything. I'm just finding it difficult to find the time I need to work on things and answer reviews. :[**

**Thanks guys, for being supportive and understanding.**

**DISCLAIMER OF DEBAUCHERY: I do not own D. Gray-man. If I did, Kanda would break out in The Pussy Cat Dolls "Hush, Hush" every time Allen opens his mouth.**

**WARNINGS: More pairing madness (but it has a set ending now, I think), Sheryl (D8), Lenalee, and an obnoxious time-line.**

– – –

Eighteen: Underneath

The rain was pouring in sheets from the purple-gray sky when the four of them shivered their way onto a train – the second since the crash upon Allen and Kanda's arrival. Link walked more or less unassisted, having made splendid progress with his balance and disregarded the doctor's advice that he should stay. He moved leaning heavily on his right side, something that no one mentioned or even seemed to notice. Lavi noticed. He also noticed that Kanda kept quite the distance between himself and Allen, usually with at least one person between the two of them. He saw how the swordsman shivered under his coat, and how Allen didn't seem to mind the rain at all. He saw the person waiting for them like a shadow at the very back of the platform, top hat tilted to hide the man's expression.

It took every ounce of self-control the apprentice Bookman had to step onto that train and walk to their compartment. And even then, he did not have enough to act like he was happy about leaving. There was some comfort in sharing a seat with Yuu, at least. And the swordsman did not react to him with jealousy and anger like one might have expected, instead he was there with silent reassurance and cool indifference, only cocking an eyebrow when Lavi dug his fingers into the soft red upholstery and they began to pull away from the town. It wasn't a mocking eyebrow. It was an unspoken inquiry into his mental state, one that Lavi could not decidedly answer.

Within the hour, Yuu lay dozing on Lavi's shoulder, and the redhead allowed himself to be pleasantly distracted from his inner turmoil. Distracted by how Allen frowned at the two of them sharing that space, and how Link winced every time the tracks twisted beneath them.

The rain continued to fall.

The sound of the water landing on the metal roof relieved the need for conversation to the point that Lavi wandered into his thoughts eventually, deep into the memories that he had not tried to recall. With Yuu so close it was impossible not to think of the times they had been together, and to mull them over like a heady wine, tasting the past like the notes of a dry red. They had been so close, so very close, twined like two thorny vines, clamoring for proximity that hurt far more than they had intended. They had grown that way, eventually. Now, Lavi realized, removing himself would be like cutting away half of what was there, and leaving the twisted, gnarled Yuu behind to recover.

It made him feel sick to even think about it. Revolted with himself. It was true, he cared about Tyki in ways that he had not cared for anyone, but there were factors that the two of them could not change, things that made that relationship so much less possible...

But Lavi was not looking for what was possible. That was not what would determine things, in the end.

It reminded him, the rain on their window, Kanda leaning on him, and the silence, of that first time that he and the swordsman had found themselves compromised by feelings and attractions that made things awkward. As the redhead recalled it had been the fault of his own flirtatious behavior, one too many puns, and a rather intimate scrape in an alleyway that had lead them down a terrifyingly sexual and angry path and never seen them back to the pseudo-friends they had been.

Kanda's knee between his, Mugen at his throat. It had always been a dangerous game. Soaking wet, in the pouring rain, with the side of his face bleeding from the thinnest cut a sword had ever made, Lavi had trembled at the touch of those perfect lips, fought with the threat of decapitation and struggled with need he could not stand to see unfilled. Yuu's need. Yuu's frustration. It had strung him like a bow to relieve the tension in the swordsman, and driven them both well beyond the breaking point to get there.

Lavi remembered the vulnerable, frightened look that had filled Yuu's eyes the moment Lavi had reached forward and touched him. And he remembered telling the Japanese boy that it was okay, because Lavi had been flirting with him, so it was to be expected.

They had never put a label on it. They had never claimed to be more than friends. Even when the redhead sought out Yuu's company in order to hold himself together more than once, even when Yuu wordlessly fell asleep in the lounge next to Lavi, even when they both found equal amounts of physical and emotional comfort in each others presence, they never called themselves more than friends or acquaintances. It was like pretending it was more would have shattered their happy illusion.

But there was that one time, after three days of constant fighting on Yuu's part, without sleep or food or even water, that the two of them had stumbled their way into a bedraggled inn and fallen into bed together. That time had been different. Without that bit of contact sleep would have remained illusive, held at bay by tension and self-preservation and the fear that another Akuma would be there the moment their guard was dropped. It had been sweet and slow and filled with warmth that Lavi's hadn't been able to name. Sex did not feel like that. Sex did not leave him curled on his side around a naked arm, lost in the strength of what had happened even as sleep consumed him.

Tyki's bloodlust had been insatiable and overpowering. That night – or had it been a day? – had been nothing like that at all.

Lavi closed his eyes and fished in his pocket for the patch with which he would cover his right. Even if he could not decide now, it didn't matter. It wouldn't, until he knew what to do.

– – –

She had been waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting for her body to recover, and when it finally had, she had dashed to her destination, done what needed to be done, and returned within the week. Komui had figured her out almost right off, but hadn't mentioned it. Instead, he allowed her two or three days to rest between assignments and kept her informed to the absolute best of his ability. She was thankful in many was, and irritated in others. When the news came that finally, after months, Kanda and Allen and Lavi were all coming home, Lenalee nearly threw herself into the scientist without restraint, but stopped herself just short. He deserved a real hug, not some maddeningly quick parody.

She had not expected the four of them, counting Link, to wander in looking like drowned, tortured rats. Lavi might have been the strangest of all. He seemed empty, lost within his own thoughts, without his customary (if forced) smile on his face. They all looked tired. Kanda – and she knew him well enough to tell – had the expression that he had been shoved through a ringer, both physical and mental, and he had not yet had the time to sift through all the pieces left behind. Oddly, though, Allen seemed the best off. Usually he came home sporting more injuries than anyone else, but now he simply seemed worried about Kanda and quietly supportive of Link walking at his side.

Lenalee did not hug them. Instead, she greeted them with a soft smile and the suggestion that she carry someone's luggage.

They didn't let her.

It was all she could do to silently follow them through the front of the cathedral and then wait while they decided what to do. It made her inwardly snicker how the four them said so much with only momentary glances.

"I'll take Link to the medical wing." Allen volunteered allowed. "Kanda should come too, if only—"

"I'm going to bed." Kanda stated rather baldly. His tone said that he did not care if it was only six in the evening and Komui would want to know all of the details of the last few months in the next twenty-four hours. Indeed, the way he said it coupled to the unhealthy shade to his skin made Lenalee furrow her brow at him. He would tell her later. There was very little he didn't tell her eventually.

Lavi shifted uneasily on his feet. "I'll... go talk to Komui, then talk to gramps. They'll both want the short rundown on what happened. Then..." He unleashed a long, deflating sigh. "Shower and sleep, I think. I don't think I can even eat at this point."

To Lenalee's silent horror, Allen grunted in agreement.

"Who wants to tell me about it?" She inquired with a rather hint-filled cock of her right eyebrow. Perhaps it was the cheerful way she said it that got all three of her friends to look at her with quizzical expressions.

"Go with Yuu-chan." Lavi said softly. "He's got a better handle on things than I do."

"Lavi—" Kanda tried to say something, but a severe look from the apprentice Bookman stilled him.

"Maybe she can help me with all of this. Tell her."

A lot had happened, Lenalee noted. More than a lot. Her excitement at seeing them, her desire to throw her arms around each of them in turn and reassure herself that they were real, her fear that all of her brother's recent scowls had something to do with their mission – those things were not nearly as important as what had happened while they were gone. There was some strange form of trust that blanketed the three male Exorcists, and excluded her only because she hadn't been there. They wanted to trust her. If they hadn't, Lavi would not have demanded that Kanda contribute to her knowledge.

Silently, they parted ways.

Her light shoes made almost no sound in the hallway compared to Kanda's boots, which clomped like he hardly had the energy to lift them. They didn't speak for a long time. Indeed, Lenalee began to wonder if they were going to talk at all when they came to the large wooden door that opened into Kanda's room. He glanced back at her before he opened it, and left it slightly ajar after he stepped inside.

It was as close to an invitation as she was going to get.

The room was Spartanly furnished, with a bed, a dresser, a three legged stand, and a desk at which to write reports. With the lights on it seemed rather homely, though also filled with dust, and the way Kanda moved with quick familiarity – threw his jacket almost at once over the back of the desk chair, slid his packed suitcase against the foot of the bed – reminded Lenalee of all the times she had invaded Kanda's personal space with a less warm welcome. This time, when he tugged his shirt out of his belt and threw himself haphazardly down on the mattress, she shut the door and leaned against it, perfectly aware that now was usually the time Kanda took to himself.

The dark eye that looked at her – just one eye, the other covered in a swath of white bandage – seemed to look deeper than was absolutely necessary. The Japanese Exorcist rarely looked at people when he spoke to them if he knew them well, choosing instead to look at whatever was taking half of his attention, be it a report or a tray of food or a flower. Now, he looked at her. If he saw that she was curious and worried and concerned and a little perplexed, Lenalee could not say, but after a moment he directed his gaze toward the stone ceiling instead.

"Should I sit down?" Her voice sounded far too loud in the quiet stone room.

He grunted.

Lenalee sighed. "Did something happen...between you and Lavi?"

The way his eye widened – like she didn't know from that exchange in the hall – told her that either something had or he was so shocked at her suggesting it he didn't know how to react. After the briefest of moments he regained control of himself and redirected his eye back toward the ceiling, narrowed just slightly.

"The bean's part isn't mine to tell, but the rest..." Kanda took a deep breath before he went on. "I guess it started when our train derailed itself on arrival..."

– – –

Lavi had thought that he understood Komui, for the most part, but now, he was not so sure. It was one thing to get a bright, welcoming smile, and another to be on the receiving end of one of the hugs usually only reserved for Lenalee. It made Lavi feel better, however. Someone was glad of his homecoming, even if his mentor was not. Even if Yuu wasn't, really. Perhaps Komui saw that he was exhausted in more ways than one, Lavi didn't know, but he appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

So it was that when he had extracted himself from the older man's hold, Lavi sank like a lead weight against the sofa in front of Komui's desk and rested his head in his right hand. He did not know what question would be first, nor if he would want to give the most damning answer without a shower, a meal, and a night of sleep, but he pushed the thought into the farthest corner of his mind. Komui would understand what happened. And if he didn't, if somehow the supervisor thought of him as some sort of sick traitor, Bookman would somehow protect him from the worst of it. Somehow.

"And now that you're back," Komui said with a tired, wide smile. He might have aged ten years since Lavi had last seen him. But there was relief behind his eyes, too. "Would you like to have your hammer before I send you off for a few days of rest and recovery?"

For a moment, the redhead simply blinked. Before he could stop himself, the words simply came tumbling out of his mouth. "Really? There's not gonna be some... long arduous interrogation about where I was and what I did and what I told who?"

Komui's smile turned suddenly soft. "No. I'll want a report by the end of the week on all of the excruciating details, but I'm sure that you've been through enough already. Knowing that you're all safe is good enough for the time being. Bookman will be returning from the field next week, and he is perfectly aware that you're safe." The scientist leaned back in his chair and removed his glasses in a half-elegant flourish, revealing true thankfulness beneath the layers of tiredness and worry.

"Thank you." Lavi whispered the two words and found that he had never felt them to be truer.

"Go grab something hot to eat and a shower. Maybe not in that order." Komui encouraged. "I'll have your Innocence when you're finished."

The redhead nodded before he pushed himself up like an old man clamoring to his feet. He was skipping out the door with a smile before the scientist even had the time to wave goodbye.

– – –

By the time he had told her everything, by the time the words had been extracted from him like venom from a snake bite, Lenalee was seated against his door and Kanda had one arm thrown up to bock his good eye. It felt good to get it out. It felt wonderful to let the emotions run their rampant course, even if it left him drained. The dark outside of his window, coupled with the lowering temperature, made him want nothing more than to let his tired body and worn out mind rest for a few delicious hours. But even that, he knew, wouldn't be enough just yet. Now that the words were out where they could be felt and heard and understood he knew that the one thing he wanted more than anything else was to fall asleep with someone beside him.

Preferably Lavi. Preferably tangled so only the basic principles of physics kept them separated. The ache was so intense Kanda did not respond to the shifting of Lenalee's weight to her feet, nor did he pay much heed to the extinguishing of his lights. He followed the sound of her voice, however, and winced a little at the opening of the door.

"I'll talk to Lavi. Not tonight. You both need time to just... be. I don't know if I'll help him at all, but he should at least know the truth, even if that isn't mine to tell." At times like these, when she spoke with that quietly authoritative voice, it was almost like she and Komui really were siblings in that regard. They had the same serious quality when lecturing the person they thought of as a younger sibling. "If you need anything..."

He nodded into his arm and waited for the door to shut.

The quiet was heavy like a blanket sewn from sheets of lead held together by threads of steel. It threatened to suffocate the swordsman after only the shortest of moments, made thicker by the lack of light, the stone all around him. Like being buried. Like a stone sarcophagus, filled with all of his thoughts. But Kanda did not want to break that stifling silence. It was cold and familiar, like a long distant childhood memory that he could sometimes half-recall. Even if he could hardly draw breath it was better than the alternative.

It had been a very, very long time since a nightmare had gripped him when awake, since a memory had clawed its way into the surface of his mind and torn away at reality to the point that he lost all of it – not the edges or the details or the parts that he wasn't directly looking at, but all of it. But he was tired, and the cold, the dark, the feeling of dullness in his right arm, was so familiar, that it was hard for him to hold on. He wasn't physically strong enough to resist the pull of his mind. His mind was too tangled in things he could not properly sift through to respond how he wanted it to. And he was alone.

Alone. He had been alone.

The sound of the door coming open did not quite shake the illusion – nothing ever could – but it jerked his stiff right arm down away from his face and let the slightest sliver of light into his left eye. After a brief struggle to bring the intruder into focus Kanda gave up and let himself sag against his mattress. It was either Allen or Lavi, and he wasn't in a position to tell either of them to go away. Not when he was about to lose a much needed night of sleep to little more than a nightmare.

The door closed again, dimming the space again. The scent of soap permeated the small room before a soft, smooth hand found the side of the swordsman's face and pushed back his bangs, then moved down to push away his arm. It was not until a pair of warm, gently parted lips touched Kanda's, and a curious, slightly uncertain tongue slipped softly through the seal of his lips that he knew who it was. He would have said something regrettable if not for that kiss. Instead, he reached out with his left hand until he found the wet hair he was searching for and wound his fingers up in it, tugged the other boy lower. This wasn't a promise, Kanda knew, but it was an escape. A wonderful, momentary escape for both of them.

And it would hurt so much more if things ended after it. But Kanda could not truly say that he cared.

There were no verbal commands exchanged while they pulled off shirts and pants and undergarments, but they paused for the bandages. It had only taken once for them to learn that lesson. Now, when they had tested that Kanda would not bleed to death without the linen holding his face and chest together, they gently peeled aside those little bits of fabric and fell together, fingernails tripping on skin. Kanda felt himself shudder, felt the other boy hesitate when their bodies became flush.

He wanted so much to be selfish – he would have been, if he really didn't care. Instead, with all of his will, the swordsman placed his stronger arm across the redhead's bare chest and held him slightly back, searching for an expression in the dark. What he saw – the regret, the fear, the guilt, the need – made him want nothing more than to finish what the apprentice Bookman had started. But that would not change anything. It would not save anyone. And even if Kanda did not save people, he saw no purpose in soothing the pain only to tear open the wound further.

"Yuu..." The name was spoken like a velvet soft caress.

He shook his head at it, but drew Lavi closer all the same. "Che. Don't do this if you're trying to make one of us feel better."

The redhead's expression didn't change. "I know. But..." There was so much skin touching already that the slightest shift was like fire, setting them to a low simmer. Lavi did not seem to notice. "I... there's so much that's gone wrong, so much that's fallen apart, and I can't fix it. I can't undo what I've done, unfeel what I've felt. But this, with you..." Lavi closed his eye and shook his head just slightly. "I can at least try to understand what we have and what it makes me feel, what it makes you feel." There was still so much uncertainty in the apprentice Bookman's expression, but there was also determination in his eye. "Right now, I feel like I did when you were gone for two months on that super-obnoxious suicide mission and you came home looking like someone had put you through a dull meat-grinder. Do you remember what I did that day?"

Kanda did. Very well. He wasn't sure which part had made him more sore – the mission, or the homecoming. Thinking on it, the redhead looked almost the same.

"Thing is..." Lavi went on without waiting for an answer. "There isn't anything I can do. Even if I really... love Tyki, I can't run away to be with him. It can't happen. You aren't a replacement – I would never do that to anyone – but it's stupid of me to feel like this when a relationship with him isn't even possible. That should be enough to make me stop thinking about it. It would have been. Before."

"No." Kanda interrupted, and realized a bit belatedly that he had spoken in a soft, nonthreatening whisper. He rarely spoke in that voice, and when he did, it was usually because he did not have the strength to feel angry at the moment. Now, it was because Lavi was naked beside him, their skin touching, and Lavi was thinking his own humanity into complexity. "We were never supposed to happen, but that didn't stop you."

In the dark, it was hard to tell if Lavi purposely ran his fingernails across Kanda's collarbone or if it happened by chance. "Look, it's complicated. Can we go back to kissing now? It's all... I don't know. But I miss you. Right now, more than anything else, I just... miss you..." It was not fair that he could lean in so close, that he could draw Kanda to him like metal to a magnet. It was not fair that the touch of his fingertips was addictive like some kind of drug.

Kanda kissed him. He kissed Lavi deep and hard, seeking out the old places, the places he knew, before he pulled away and took the other boy by the shoulders. "Then just sleep with me." Kanda hated himself for saying it, hated himself for making the redhead's hopeful expression fall. "As much as you want to be with me right now..."

_How much of that wanting is meant for someone else?_

Lavi seemed to hear the unspoken question. He closed his eye and pressed an open palm to the expanse of Kanda's chest. "Then hold me."

Usually, Kanda did not allow for much cuddling before sleep, but this was an exception. Gently, aware that there was a large chance Lavi did not think of the arms around his bare chest as Kanda's, the swordsman wrapped the redhead in a loose embrace and pulled him into a more comfortable position against the mattress. In the dark, naked, wound together as they were, Kanda wished silently that he had allowed the redhead what he asked for, even if it was not really what he wanted.

– – –

Allen did not sleep well. He dreamed things that hurt and things that smiled and things that no longer mattered. He woke standing by the window, looking out at the dismal sky, his right hand clenched around his left in a death-grip that would have bruised anyone else. He felt as if he had been pacing all night, stiff-backed and bone-weary. He could not, however, recall if he had been. The only thing he could remember were his strange dreams and the feeling that he might have done something regrettable.

The fire in his veins started the moment he and a somewhat uncomfortable looking Link made their way to the cafeteria. Kanda was at one of the long tables, sitting across from a crestfallen Lavi, the swordsman's long fingers wrapped delicately around a pair of chopsticks. Allen did not like how at ease the two looked. He did not like that Kanda was eating with his left hand, his right tucked in close to his body, though no longer bound. The part that filled Allen's chest with anger, however, was the soft way Lavi smiled at Kanda, with tenderness and understanding in his expression, with the light of hope and the fire of longing burning in his eye.

_Mine._

The word echoed in his head before he silenced it. It etched itself on the surface of his mind so he could feel it there every time he looked at Kanda.

Still, when he seated himself he did it so he could not look at the two other boy's sharing their breakfast.

– – –

There was an official inquiry into what had happened while Lavi was gone, one that mostly took place in Komui's office on the third day the apprentice Bookman had been home. It went well, all things considered. The redhead simply explained that he knew no details of the Noah's plans simply because he had not asked about them – indifference had lead to a lack of curiosity, and caring had lead to a lack of attention to detail. Chronologically his answers and information lined up with what Kanda had told them to the point that there was simply no excuse to keep him from missions or place him under observation. His Innocence, once returned to him, flared to life with little more than a word.

Lavi accepted a mission for the following day without even thinking. If it kept him away from Bookman, he would take it. If it kept him close to Yuu, he would make it last twice as long as it needed to last.

When he found himself sitting on a train across from Lenalee, he thought he might have wanted to punch something. But punching was too rude a response to not being on a mission with Kanda, so he sat in contemplative silence, watching her watch the scenery, hating that he could not blurt to her the things that had happened while they were chaperoned. At least, after nearly fifteen minutes of watching the trees outside reflect in her lavender eyes, their Finder excused himself to the bathroom.

The redhead did not launch himself into an explanation. Instead, he waited for her to look at him and smile like she didn't care about anything else at the moment.

He smiled softly back.

"Brother told me you've had a hard time of things," Lenalee said in a tone that was neither accusatory nor casual. She folded her hands in her lap and tilted her head to the side so that her short dark hair dangled slightly into her face. "Did you want to tell me about what happened?"

She didn't tell him if Kanda had told her everything already, which left him with little else to do himself. But it would be stupid to assume that she didn't know anything, that she hadn't already prepared some sort of advice if he didn't say a word. He swallowed and allowed his left eye to turn out the window in the direction of the sun. "I don't know what happened." He said honestly, and felt the part of him that was proud of being a Bookman shiver in grayish self-disgust. "When I'm not with Tyki, it feels like it all happened in some sort of dream, and yet I still wanna see him and tell 'im that it'll be fine. I don't know what fine is. But in my head it's a lot like seeing each other every day and not worryin' about killing each other." It was stupid of him, but he still felt his lips lift a little. "It's strange, isn't it? Not knowing what to do when logic tells you exactly what you should. But I don't care about logic. I don't care about a lot of things. Tyki..." He felt his right hand draw into a tight fist against his leg. What was Tyki? Under the human skin, behind the darkness, what was there? Was the thing that drove him human or not?

For the shortest time, it hadn't mattered. It was driving Lavi mad that it did now.

"What is a heartless person supposed to do?" He heard his voice, soft and broken, crack into the silence between them. It was like a dry, crinkled leaf under his boot, the sound so unimportant and yet unstoppable. "A heartless person would take what he could get, wouldn't he? He would forget what he had felt, what he could feel, and go with what felt good now, wouldn't he? That would be the easy way out, wouldn't it?"

"Lavi..."

The redhead looked back at the Chinese girl and saw, for the first time, how important he was to her. A part of her world, a thing she wanted to protect, a piece of an impossible puzzle about to fall eternally from the edge of a table. She wanted him to be happy and safe, if only because that was how he had fit in her mind for so long. And here he was, his single emerald not even focused on her while he tipped her little world upside-down.

"But I'm in love with Noah's Pleasure and I can't pretend that I'm not. There might be nothing I can do about it – he might still put a tease in my chest and watch me bleed out when it comes to it, but that doesn't change what's there. Yuu... Yuu-chan... God, I don't even know where to start." The shock in her eyes was enough to drive the redhead's face into his palms. "You don't just stop something like this. You can't. It's like a train on a track that's gone outta control, all powered by yearning and things you don't understand because you're not allowed to, and weighed down by shit that happened a lifetime ago that doesn't have a name but has a face and makes you see flowers. You don't throw things like that away. You don't pretend that it never happened because you're ordered to. It's just there, like a festering wound, making you sick and hurting like crazy, but you can't let it heal because it's a part of you and you want it there for reasons that are more messed up than the reason it started in the first place."

"Lavi—"

He gritted his teeth and lowered his hands, but didn't look up at her. Instead, he went on in a softer whisper, feeling the words escape him in a torrent that would leave him hollow. "It's not that love like the ocean that's deep and dark and mysterious. Yuu can't be like that. It's love like a waterfall trying to push you under so you can't pull yourself up to breathe when you need to, beating you down, smashing you up. Strong so you can't let it go. Strong so you can't control it. And it's addictive." When he did look up he found her looking at him with a blank expression. "What is a person with a heart supposed to do?"

She blinked at him and smiled like it hurt her. The lavender color of her eyes showed more brightly, while the black of her hair seemed to fade. She did not notice the change in the light. "A good person would tell you that you should follow your heart if you have one, Lavi. But I'm not a good person." Her smile wavered. "Would you really forget everything for a man who tried to kill all of us? For a man who wants to destroy the world?"

Lavi's eye widened but he didn't answer.

"Nothing should make you want to be with that man. Nothing. No amount of kindness that he showed you should make you think that he feels anything at all for you." Her words were so cold, so bitter, like a chill winter wind blowing across his face. It felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. Lenalee was understanding and gentle; her words felt nearly cruel. "He blinded you and nearly killed you right in front of me, Lavi. He tried to kill Allen. He tried to kill Kanda. He used me as a human shield against you. He destroyed Suman Dark. Those things... do they not mean anything? He has killed so many people, and yet you can't decide between him and Kanda?"

"It isn't like that."

"No. It is." Anger. That was the undertone in her voice. "You can't decide between Kanda and that murderer."

Murderer. He knew that word, but it didn't mean what it was supposed to.

_Murderer_.

"If that's what he is, what does that make me?"

"What?"

He felt suddenly cold on the inside, like he had stepped into a blizzard, or perhaps the blizzard had stepped into him. Lavi did not really know. He knew, however, that the feeling was dangerous and deadly. He could hurt someone. He could hurt Lenalee. The prospect was not frightening like it should have been. In his previous lives he had walked away from dying men without a backward glance; there would be little difference in doing it with his own hands if he wanted to. That feeling, that cool indifference, what he had done – surely they made him a killer at the least. What was the difference between firing the gun and leaving the bullet in the soldier it hit? He didn't see any. Those days that he had spent with Tyki, and the times he had quietly ignored the blood covered clothes and the secretive nighttime outings, was exactly the same as ripping out the hearts himself.

"How many people do you think I've let die because saving them would be interfering with a war I wasn't a part of, Lenalee? Tens? Hundreds? Thousands?" Lavi chuckled. "You think I give a damn that Tyki killed a handful of Finders I hardly knew and a bunch of Exorcists I had lunch with? I don't care. That's my job. Not caring. I'm responsible for more deaths than he is, anyway." He felt the cold anger twist in his gut like an icy claw wrapped around his insides in a painful, clamping fist. He drew on the discomfort to fuel him. "If you don't understand there's nothing I can do to make you."

"But how can you compare that?" Lenalee's voice raised to slightly quieter than a yell. "You did what you were taught to – you didn't do it because you enjoyed it! And what about us, Lavi? We're your family, aren't we?"

"Lenalee—"

"I'm the younger sister who's smarter than you and Allen is your younger brother who's not, and we're a family! How can you love someone – _think_ about loving someone – who would try to take that away from you? Why would you—"

"Because I _forgot_ about all of you! Because I was alone and he was there to care for me! And afterward, when I knew that he was out there killing people, that he had taken those memories away from me, I didn't forget what he made me feel!"

The Chinese girl drew into herself at his scream, then lunged forward in a movement that was terribly familiar and yet completely unpredictable. Lavi reacted on instinct the same way he would have if she had been an Akuma trying to hit him with a blade. He was behind her and blindsided in a matter of moments – and he had not taken into account that Lenalee would give up hitting him with her fist and instead swing her left right around to clock him in the side of the head with her heel. The train car span briefly before Lavi found himself looking blearily up at the ceiling, black splotches dancing in his vision like tiny bugs that scurried away before he could bring them completely into focus.

With a groan and three forced blinks, the redhead slowly brought his eye to Lenalee's face and studied the somewhat sorry quality to her expression. Perhaps, as always, she hadn't meant to kick him quiet that hard. Perhaps it was only an illusion caused by seeing her face upside-down.

She did not hesitate, and instead spoke softly to him, her voice nearly drowned by the rattling of the rails. "There are more important things than what we want in this world, Lavi. There are more important things than what we feel. There's good and evil and life in it. But I could be wrong. If he is that one thing that drives you, that one thing that makes you hold on, the thing that you cannot live without..." She shook her head. "You wouldn't be thinking so hard about this if he was. It wouldn't be a choice at all."

"Lenalee..." Lavi spoke softly also, though there was an edge in his voice that gave it silent thunder, carrying his confusion. "I don't know what I want because I don't understand. It makes sense to me that I shouldn't love 'im, but that doesn't change anything. It just makes it harder. If he wasn't an enemy..." He couldn't imagine it for a moment when he tried. "I don't know."

"But he is, Lavi." It was a statement that could not be argued. "And he always will be."

– – –

Tyki had been quiet through all of dinner, withdrawn so that Sheryl could almost taste the dark dancing in the air around his younger brother, could almost sense the emotion that brought it on. It was almost adorable. Instead, when Tyki pushed himself back from his plate after only a few bites of food, it was sad to watch. There were very few things that could upset Tyki, and even fewer that could upset him to the point of turning down a delicious meal composed of his favorite meat.

Sheryl took only a moment to reassure his wife that it had not been the conversation that drove Tyki away, and then followed the younger Noah out of the dining room and eventually into the garden, moving as quietly as possible as he went. Once outside, Sheryl noted that the winter air felt heavy with cool moisture; fog nearly blocked the stars from sight above them, obscuring the moon into a silvery soft eye surrounded by tufts of cotton. It closed them in like four white walls. It made Tyki seem terribly alone in his dark suit against the swirling white backdrop. The tendrils of Tyki's hair fell like waves of ebony lace down his back, glinted with diamond shards of moisture, and shifted like water when he turned his warm dark eyes up at the light. The dining room had been harsh lighting and family – here it was picturesque and dangerous.

It took perhaps ten heartbeats for Tyki to lower his face from the moon and turn his attention downward. It was an invitation, even if the younger Noah did not realize it.

With silent purpose, Sheryl did the only thing that he knew would not result in chasing Tyki even farther away than he already was, and moved forward to place his arms around his brother's waist. The stiffening of Tyki's spine was expected, as was the sudden movement of his head, but Sheryl did not expect to feel fingers touch the back of his right hand in a tender, unfamiliar caress. It made his breath catch. It made him forget, for a moment, why he had touched Tyki in the first place.

"The wine with dinner," Tyki said in a soft, distant voice that felt raw and crackly, like dry leaves brushing the cobblestone walk, "was dry like the one I served with salad once, when he was with me. He was too drunk. And he told me that he was _wrong_." He chuckled. "I'll never forget how he looked while he slept that night. Even if he never trusts me that explicitly again... I will always remember what it was like to sleep so I did not want to wake up if it meant he would be gone in the morning."

Sheryl tightened his arms marginally, driving his face into his brother's hair. It smelled like cigarettes. This was not the moment to bring up that the boy was no more a lost lover than he was a lost plaything – a creature to be hunted and, if Tyki wished it, to be broken. All intelligent animals could be tamed, and Bookmen were no exception. Now was the time to be a solid, stable force, and to weave himself into Tyki's mind with the ideas of warmth and understanding. "There are three Akuma groups in my country investigating Innocence. One of them suffered losses yesterday."

"Sheryl—"

"If you want, I will give you the location. He may not be there, but I love you too much to stop you from wandering into a trap baited by the one you love."

For a long moment, Tyki remained perfectly silent. "Why would you do that? Doesn't that go against what you are, bother?"

It did. Sheryl did not give away the things he wanted – was not supposed to. He was supposed to have the perfect life, the perfect family, the perfect home, the perfect lover. He was supposed to have it all.

He wanted – deserved – to have it all.

Softly, unsure if it was half a lie, Sheryl tilted his face forward enough to speak into Tyki's delicately pointed ear. "You are not the only one who is not always dark."

– – –

**More to come!** **Forgive me for the naked not-sex. My bad. Also, I promise that Kanda will not be quite so... how he is later.**


	19. Without the Mask

**So I moved over last weekend, and worked the entire time on top of it. As a result, my unplugged computer lost so many reviews, it isn't even funny. I apologize. I have been really, really bad about reviews recently, but they really are a wonderful encouragement. Even if I haven't responded, every one makes me smile and think and understand what you, the reader, might get from my work. I promise to be more careful. I also promise to write replies and porn regardless of the fact that I'm sharing a room with a boy now.**

**On a different note, this chapter continues the fast pace set by recent chapters. I don't know why, but this story doesn't want to have anything useless in it. At all...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own DGM. If I did... Kanda would never have Vegeta hair and deus ex machina would not be the solution to the Alma situation. Thank you. **

**WARNINGS: The Pairings of Decisiveness. Angst. Yaoi. Some blood. Lenalee.**

* * *

Nineteen: Without the Mask

The sunlight splashed cool and white across the frosty ground, catching in the snowy branches and casting grayish shadows across the brown, glittering grass. The weather had gone from rain to a light spread of snowflakes in little more than two days, but the change had seemed gradual enough, giving them a chance to find thicker garments within their suitcases each morning. The quiet that filled the air was almost deafening. The lack of movement, the complete stillness, made the whitewashed world seem absolutely at peace. The silvery light made the icy ground shimmer as if sprinkled with finely crushed diamonds, glimmered off the frozen branches like it would have off thin planes of glass. The world was white and clear crystal, solid and motionless.

Harsh breathing broke the quiet. Red marred the perfect snow. Plumes of fog whipped away in strips in the otherwise invisible wind. The sound of metal sinking through dirt was the only preamble to a thud that was neither soft nor quiet – though there was not even a groan to accompany it.

With his right cheek pressed to the cold ground, Allen blinked blearily at the nearest tree, tried to pull the knot on the side of it into focus. From that strange angle, looking at it with his left eye and only part of his right, the knot looked almost like the gnarled face of an old man, winking at him, hawk nosed, teeth clenched as if to hold a pipe. The image swirled for a moment before he lost it completely and forced his eyes closed, then opened them once more. It was just a knot on a tree, nothing else, but he could still make out the face. The warmth that spread across his abdomen and up his chest, however, was as real as the crushed snow catching in his eyelashes, as real as the large, wet flakes that had started to fall from the sky above him.

It didn't hurt right now. It had, when the forth level Akuma had grown a bladed arm and caught him in the lower chest with it. It had hurt a lot. Now, the snow felt like a soft white mattress, cool and pleasant against his skin.

He felt heavy. He felt fatigued. It reminded him of China, his heart losing strength in his chest. But then, he had not felt quite so much like he wanted to sleep before he recovered.

The crunch of a foot in the snow made him curious, but not curious enough to lift his head. He looked from the old man in the tree to the darkly colored leg that had just come into view, and tried to place the shiny shoe toe, but failed after just a moment. The knee was unfamiliar, too. Maybe he hadn't seen this leg from this angle. Maybe he couldn't recognize it from the spidery shadows thrown down around them.

Maybe he was hallucinating. Yes, that seemed the most-likely, he decided. Because when a second foot came down next to the first, the stranger simply stood there as if confused what he had stumbled upon. It was pretty obvious to Allen. If one came upon a bleeding person, one was supposed to offer help. It was the only logical thing to do.

The thought was the last logical thing to happen to him for a very long time.

* * *

Lavi and Lenalee found thieves and a wet, cold wind when they arrived, neither of which stopped them from finding the comfort of their inn in a matter of minutes. There, they spent the night avoiding the subject of Lavi's love-life and instead focused on the dangers at hand. The town attracted the bloodthirsty and the violent, took them in, kept them, and spat them out twice as bad as they had been, with nicer clothes and a desire for crimes that were less easy to follow. The Finders that had gone in, however few, either did not return, or came out cut-purses and gamblers, a change none of them were willing to explain for even the largest of rewards.

The thought that it might be Innocence stemmed from that unwillingness. Any Finder fallen into the arts of a back-alley opium runner had to be influenced by more than a local network of crime lords and monetary gain.

Lavi realized it was all hogwash by the third day. There wasn't a single Akuma in these parts, not the faintest glimmer of Innocence, and too many men had offered Lavi a job in exchange for Lenalee for there to be more here. It annoyed him. If Yuu had come, they might have spent a week upturning the rocks of the city and chancing out the serpents that pulled the strings. But now, with Lenalee, that didn't seem possible. They would be forced to return to the Order empty handed.

The redhead swallowed his disappointment and did not think about Tyki. Tried not to think about Tyki. But on the third night, the Noah came to mind regardless of how Lavi fought to keep his thoughts on other things. They had promised to see each other again, but it was only one promise in many – one promise that Lavi did not understand the sentiment behind. Tyki loved him, of that he was certain, but they did not live between the pages of a romance novel where glances and long looks and fated meetings would keep them bound to each other until the end of the war. Lavi knew, looking up at the ceiling with its thick oaken rafters, that if he could spend time with the man he had lived with and talk to him, if he could have a conversation with him, he would know exactly what he wanted to do.

In the dark, it was easy to imagine what might happen. The Noah would tell him that they had different sides to fight for, that it was a distant dream, but that there would still be something there. And Lavi would let him. Lavi would let him walk away thinking that there was nothing that could be done for the two of them.

He didn't want that. Lavi pulled the blankets over his head to hide the ceiling from sight.

– – –

Allen lost contact with his party of Finders, Link, and Timcampy. The Order – meaning Leverrier – was prepared to launch a full-scale search and potentially destroy mission.

Komui was not about to have that.

He looked up at the Frenchman, one hand wrapped around a quill, the other delicately resting on his coffee mug. He would by the boy a week at least. Three days. An hour. He didn't care if he had to beat Leverrier in the head with his favorite cup, he would find a way.

"As you were saying, Mr. Lee?"

Komui cleared his throat. "Yes... as I was saying..."

* * *

The world was a very warm place, filled with soft lights and heavy blankets, punctuated by the sound of feet moving across a creaky floor. The touch of fabric on his skin told him that he was shirtless, which meant that someone kind enough to care had found him – maybe Link had followed his blood trail through the snow, or Chouji had won the fight and stumbled upon him in a weeping mess. It didn't really change the fact that Allen was in a warm bed, the pain in his abdomen a distant sort of ache.

The moment he cracked his silver eyes, he regretted it a little, because the soft light was not so soft when not dimmed by the layer of his eyelids. It was sunlight, golden and cutting, white-edged, cold. And the dark figure that was placing as to make the floor protest every so often was just close enough to be recognizable, and just recognizable enough to make the British Exorcist attempt to sit up and scramble off of the mattress and activate his Innocence all in one motion. The result was not pleasant. Pain shot through his abdomen, the muscles tightening without responding as they should have. The bed seemed to lurch – his Innocence flickered to life with an effort.

And the man in front of him, the Noah, paused and turned, his dark, golden eyes round in a familiar expression of surprise. His face swayed for a moment, the only movement between the two of them. His nose grew momentarily blurry. With all of Allen's will, it returned to how it had been, the exact distance from him as the moment he had opened his eyes and realized who was there.

"I see you're doing better." Tyki's voice was somehow heavy, but Allen could not tell why. He could hardly maintain the active state of his Innocence – there was no energy to use in trying to figure out what the man in front of him might want.

He wanted to ask, but his dry throat didn't feel like forming words.

The Noah took a step back before he took the initiative, rocking on the wooden floor so that it creaked much like it had when Allen's silver eyes had been closed. "All alone out there in the woods bleeding like that might have been it for you, boy, if I hadn't been there. But my brother told me that he had lost Akuma, so I thought I might look to see if..." He let the words die, his chocolate irises focused on Allen's left hand. "Do you really have to have that out? Honestly, the last thing on my mind at the moment is anything that the Earl wants and it's terribly distracting. All that shiny and pointy and _radiating_ – doesn't it make your head ache?"

Allen felt that someone had just lobbed a very large brick at him and he had watched it just long enough to understand what was happening before it hit him directly between the eyes. Something very important made sense to him, fell into place in his mind as easily as a ball rolling from the table to the floor. It was almost enough to make him falter, but not quite. Instead, he tilted his head to the side, and swallowed the sandstone boulder that seemed to have clogged his throat.

"You thought..." He fought with a cough and lost before he went on. "You thought I was Lavi." It was a statement, even though it should have been a question.

"I had hoped."

Allen tried not to allow himself to feel surprised. "But when I wasn't..."

"What kind of message would that send if I killed you in my attempt to find him? Not the right one. Well, not the right one to _him_." Tyki looked away and Allen realized that the reason he seemed strange – aside from the look on his face – was the tiredness to his eyes, and the hollowness to his cheeks. Perhaps the Noah had not slept well in the last few days. If at all. "But not killing you puts me in a rather bad situation, boy. I'm a at a loss what to do about that part, but I'll worry about it when it becomes an issue and not before. Otherwise I'll drive myself mad all over again." He waved a hand as if it didn't matter. "Now that you aren't dead, or dying right away, rather, we might be able to come to something of an agreement."

"I don't know if I like that idea." Allen said before he could stop himself. He wasn't in much of a position to argue, however. Bedridden, wounded, lost – there were a number of problems with his current situation, and there wasn't much he could do about any of it.

The Noah looked momentarily put off by the comment, but he didn't snap or react violently. Instead, he started to pace again, slowly and deliberately. "You of all people should know what it is that I'm talking about, Allen Walker. And it isn't something one talks about lightly. At least, not if you're intelligent enough to avoid it." A wild smirk flashed across his face and then it was gone again, masked in the human skin the Noah wore so well. It was as if he was balanced on the edge of a knife, wavering between something that was nearly normal and something that was a monstrous as an Akuma, darker and sadder, even. It made the Exorcist shiver. "I'm talking about love."

Allen frowned, shifted his back against the wooden headboard. The room, he noticed, lacked the personal touches that normally made houses into homes. The headboard did not protest when he put his weight against it.

An inn, maybe?

"For the love of humanity, you – not you, but _you_ – turned your back on your family, your brother, everything you had and everything you knew. For the love of humanity. All of them. Every last one. That's not what I propose to do." Tyki stopped pacing and looked the boy directly in the face. "What I propose is far more delicate a situation than that. I do not _love_ humanity." He held up a single finger on his right hand. It did not mean a thing until he spoke. "I only truly love one of them."

_Them_. Not _you_. Not _us._

"You're thinking that I cannot be serious, I know." Tyki went on, and took to pacing again, his left foot hitting the same squeaky floorboard every other turn. The coils of his dark hair looked like polished wire in the window's light. "But even if he does not want me, I have to try. I need to know that he doesn't. Otherwise, I'll just keep letting Exorcists go thinking they might know him a little."

"Then what are you proposing?"

Tyki smiled the smile of a man who was used to holding a cigarette between his teeth but wasn't at the moment, so his lips pinched together just slightly more on one side than the other. "I will hand you this war."

For a moment, Allen simply did not understand what had been said. "Sorry? I thought you might have said something about handing me the war?"

The Noah laughed. "A chance for a chance, boy, that's all. If you let me meet him – find a way to get him to a place I tell you, when I tell you to, I will give you the location of Noah's new Ark at a given time. You can do anything you want with the information I give you." He tilted his head to the side a little, and his smile grew a little wider, though it did not turn feline for once. "If I can convince him of my intentions... I don't know. And if you manage to kill the Earl, my family, and the innumerable Akuma they have defending them... I don't know what happens then, either. But it is the only card I have to play this hand." His shrug was almost careless.

"What, for you, would be the best scenario, then?"

"The Earl dies, my brother and my niece live, Lavi agrees that hunting the ghosts of dead prophets and discovering the secrets of history is less interesting than I am."

Allen was somewhat surprised by the sheer honesty in that answer. "Why?"

This time, Tyki did not smile at all. Instead, his eyes turned downward, hiding their color from sight. "The Earl will not understand. There is no good man in all of Sodom for him, no gate keeper, no hope. The three of us – Sheryl and I especially – are too tied to this world to give it up completely."

A part of Tyki was still the man Allen had played poker with on the train.

The Exorcist felt is Innocence turn back into the arm it usually took the shape of, and felt his back settle a little more uncomfortably against the wooden headboard. His stomach gave a momentary protest at having to take just that little bit more weight, but he ignored it. Now was not the time to show any more weakness than he already had – it was the time to think as much as he could, and try to understand what exactly he could be agreeing to, what exactly he could be hearing. It was difficult. Everything hurt, which was distracting. And the way Tyki wavered in his white shirt – like the floor was too hot in front him so the heat lines were making him dance – was making the boy feel somewhat sick.

Allen ignored it all. "What will you do if Lavi... if Lavi wants you?" He could not bring himself to talk about love to the man in front of him.

"I don't know. Run away, I suppose."

"Run away?"

Tyki looked mildly exasperated. "How should I know what will happen? I don't have a plan that goes beyond bringing us together – and even that only really made sense to me in the last half hour waiting for you to wake up. I don't plan to stop him from killing Akuma, and I plan to murder every one of you, if he'll let me. What more do you want?"

The Exorcist did not know what he wanted, but he felt the slightest bit assured that Tyki was not laying some elaborate trap for the apprentice Bookman. Allen did not want to trust Tyki – a part of him rebelled at the very thought – but he knew that he _should_, that Lavi would never forgive him if the two them lost this chance. He could not tell if the thought came from himself or the other person who sometimes seemed to share his skull, but it did not really matter. It was the right thing. A chance to end the war – a chance make Lavi happy—

A chance at Kanda. Allen perished the thought.

"I want to know first." Allen said logically, and watched Tyki's grayish skin pale just marginally at the words. He waited a moment for the Noah to protest before he went on. "You tell me when and where the Ark will be, and I will tell you what mission Lavi is currently on. If you hurry, you find Lavi. If you don't, it's a lost chance and you'll have to wait for fate to find him for you. If your information proves false, the Earl will believe anything his brother tells him, even from the wrong side of a war." He had never imagined saying that. He had never wanted to. But it came out of his mouth as easily as his exhaled breath, and it made more sense to him than trying to keep information from a man who seemed to be in love.

Tyki seemed to think about what had been said. He twitched a bit. After a few heartbeats, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a cigarette, lit it with a match from his pants. Smoking, he seemed calmer, but the thoughtful expression never quite left his features. "Fine." He said after a long moment, and blew the salty air away from Allen's face. "The new Ark will be in Madrid on the twenty-third of the month, likely in the southern most part, probably over a catholic church. That day, the Earl will be more or less preoccupied with other things. If you pick the right moment, I would say a few hours before dinner, he will not be on the Ark itself, but hardly anything else will be either. It would make an easy target, assuming you have big enough guns." He took another long drag and – suddenly – sat directly on the floor with his legs folded up in front of him, the same way he had on the train. The tiredness that hung on him seemed even more pronounced.

Allen wasn't sure what to say. The truth, he supposed. "Lavi is in the slums of Bucharest, searching for Innocence with Lenalee. Even if there's nothing there, he should at least be there until tomorrow."

Tyki's face was a strange combination of fear and hope. "Really?"

"Yes."

The Noah tucked the cigarette in his mouth and smiled grimly around it, grinned as bright as Allen had ever seen him. But there wasn't anything murderous in the look. That had sank below the surface somehow. "Wonderful. Now, if you wouldn't mind bleeding, I'll put you right back in the woods were I found you."

Allen tried not to feel annoyed. "Excellent plan, Tyki Mikk. Absolutely spectacular."

* * *

There were Akuma on the fourth day. They fought like caged tigers, ruthlessly, but had less aim than was logical – shredding through houses, burning through churches, shooting at anyone and anything that moved. It reminded Lavi of what he had heard of the fight that had killed Daisya, though he could not imagine that it was the same any more than he could imagine the reason for so many Akuma to be around. He only knew, with his back pressed to the brick of a bank, facing the wooden side of the city hall, that he had been hit by too much glass the last time he'd been standing under a window, and blood was running down the side of his neck and into his jacket.

Winter was in full swing, Lavi noted, watching plumps of frost form in front of his mouth every time he panted, and he wished it was just a little warmer. If the blood on his neck had not been freezing, he might have been strong enough to hold in his shivers and hide just that much better than he could now.

The building in front him began to shake and rattle from gunfire on its opposite side. He pulled his hammer up in front of him and tried to focus on the other side of that building, imagining that he might be able to summon fire in a place that was out of sight.

He'd only done that with things that were in the immediate area – like right behind him – but he didn't want to expose himself right now. So he closed his eyes and focused on that side of the building, and drew a mental seal on the ground there. It took so much effort, so much time, that he did not feel pain until he was lying on his side in a pile of rubble, agony searing up his side. Still, he mumbled the words to invoke fire and felt the Innocence in his hands respond accordingly – and smiled crookedly at the scream of an Akuma burning alive. Or maybe burning undead. It didn't matter. What mattered was that he couldn't see anything but red when he blinked his eyes open and his ribs felt like they'd been shattered like the windows. Rolling onto his back caused the pain to grow almost sickening.

Icy cold water – just this side of rain – began to hit him softly in the face. Lavi thanked whatever god was listening that it was getting the blood out of his eyes, and then almost took back the sentiment; the water was too cold. He heard thunder roll in the distance.

Something exploded a few streets over. Lenalee was still fine.

It felt like a small eternity before Lavi could stand the pain enough to drag himself to where the bank wall used to be, and an even longer one before the rain had cleared his vision enough for him to see that the building in front of him was gone. He glanced down at himself and winced at his ribs. Something large and flat had hit him very hard. His feet tried to give out from under him and he teetered, slipped, and finally pitched to the side toward the muddy, cold cobblestones.

Lavi put out his hand and pulled his Innocence to the side, and finally closed his eye.

The hands that caught him were so gentle he almost didn't understand why he had stopped falling. He only realized, after a moment, that the scent was terribly familiar, the warmth a striking memory. Distantly, it occurred to him that there were no more explosions, no more sounds of battle. There was only unrealistic silence and arms cradling his impossibly sore ribcage, and the scent of cigarettes and the press of a warm, solid chest to the side of his face.

In a whisper that was hardly audible to Lavi's abused ears, a tender voice spoke. "Are you alright?"

It was like a dream, but that nightmares never turned into good dreams. It was always the reverse. But Lavi did not want to care. Instead, he allowed his eye to open and he looked up, looked at the face of the man he had left not very long ago at all, and _felt_ something.

Someone had lit a dark, an all-consuming fire, in his chest. Someone had shoved an ice-sickle into his heart. Whatever had happened, Lavi found himself desperate and thankful and frightened at the dark, cruel, loving face in front of him. The fear died away, replaced by understanding. This man, this Noah who was holding him, had ended a battle at the drop of a hat for his sake, and now held his life like delicately spun thread between his fingers. And Lavi could not even feel the slightest bit frightened.

He could only feel warm.

"Tyki..." The name felt somehow like it didn't mean what he meant it to, and it sounded far too impersonal. Lavi fought with himself, unsure what he wanted, until he met the older man's eyes and saw, beneath the external concern, behind those soft golden eyes, there was something that was neither kind nor gentle. The thing behind those eyes, nameless to him, had been there from the start and would always be there, even in the moments when Tyki seemed perfectly human. It was not new. It had been there longer than Lavi had been. And at the moment, the redhead did not care. "Tyki."

The Noah blinked at him with a somewhat disbelieving expression. "Oh... don't cry... Lavi... I didn't mean to – wait, am I touching something—"

The apprentice Bookman threw himself at the older man without a care for what someone looking might have thought. He buried his fingers in the man's hair, snagging the band from the back of Tyki's head, and pressed his lips to the Noah's. Perhaps it was the spontaneity of the kiss that parted Tyki's lips so easily, and perhaps it was Lavi's enthusiasm that made the older man catch him up in his arms and pull them closer. The passion of the movement, the complete disregard for everything else – that was what put Lavi at ease. He had seen the dark behind that Noah's eyes, and he understood what it felt for him.

He understood that if he kept on, there would be no going back, and that he could not simply walk away from the past the way he could the future. Lavi knew it all in the span of that kiss.

Breaking away was the last thing Lavi wanted, but he allowed his feet to flatten and their mouths to part all the same. Though physical communication conveyed so much, it did not explain everything. It could not say what Lavi wanted to most at that moment.

He opened his mouth, and Tyki began speaking.

"I came to find you as soon as I found out where you were." Tyki breathed, and his hands slid up a Lavi's neck to touch the sides of his face. The man's hands were terribly warm compared to the cold winter air, and they stuck just briefly in the drying blood on Lavi's neck. "I know that there are other things we should talk about, other things that I would like to do, to say, to find out – but there isn't the time. Whatever your answer, I swear to you that I don't have it in me to kill you, otherwise I would have already." The Noah looked the apprentice Bookman directly in the eyes and whispered. "Can I see you? Can I find you and be with you even if you can't give up your war? Can we slip away unnoticed and fight ruthlessly when people look? Or can we make something more of this? I love you. Just you. Even if I am not kind, and I am not human, and I am not what you wanted, I love you."

Lavi almost managed then to say something, but the Noah shook his head and stopped him.

"Do not tell me that you do not know if you love anyone. I already know. That isn't what I want to hear. I only want to know... will you disappear for the rest of the day, and spend it with me?" There was something horribly broken in the Noah's voice, something that went deeper than what his words implied. Perhaps the tiredness in his eyes made it more obvious, or the set of his shoulders. Whatever it was, he was as easy to read as an open book. "I only ask for the day, Lavi, if that is all you can give. I won't demand... things of you. I won't..."

The apprentice Bookman cut him off with a kiss. "Tyki..." Lavi did not know if he would regret it – if he would live to regret it – but he shifted so the tips of his fingers played at the fringe of the Noah's shirt. "I don't honestly know if I know what I want exactly, but when I knew that you were you..." He tried to find a word for the feeling in his chest, a way to describe the warmth. He didn't know. "Where can we go?" He asked instead, and watched even the darkest part of his lover's eyes turn bright. The color did not change – the irises remained the same gentle gold – but something else turned tender and loving. Perhaps it was hope or desire or loyalty. Whatever it was, the dark, the part that was supposed to be evil, expressed the emotion just as well as the human mask outside of it did.

"Anywhere." Tyki said softly. "Absolutely anywhere."

"And what will we do?"

"Pretend that you don't have a choice to make."

Lavi didn't quite smile. "I do not want this to be goodbye."

The Noah reached as if to gather him up in an embrace, stepped forward as if to press them flush. It would have been perfect – it would have been what Lavi _wanted_ – but they never made it that far. A streak of red and black, a flutter of lace, and Tyki was crouched six feet away, his open coat billowing in the wind caused by such a quick movement. He stayed that way, with one leg out to keep him low, and his right hand pressed to the ground between his parted knees. He was suddenly alert, like an animal prepared for an oncoming attack.

This time, Lavi saw Lenalee come at the Noah, and saw Tyki barely dodge the pointed toe of her boot. There was no exchange of blows. Only the Exorcist threw herself into the fight.

Tyki met Lavi's eyes for just the slimmest of moments, as if searching for permission.

The apprentice Bookman closed his eyes and lowered his head.

It was over in a fraction of a second, or at least stopped. There was a sound like breaking ground, and a loud thump. And then silence. The redhead lifted his eyes to see the two combatants standing ten yards away from each other, Lenalee breathing deeply, Tyki sporting a small cut on the edge of his cheek.

"May I please kill her?" Was all the Noah said, and it was enough to make the girl stop her assault before it could start again.

Lavi almost laughed. "I'd rather she just let us go, really. I'll be back, promise." But it wasn't really a promise, and he knew it. It was more or less a lie. There was a very large chance that if he left with Tyki, he would prefer to never come back to the Order again.

His heart ached because of Yuu.

"Why?" Lenalee screamed the words, and he saw when she turned to him that there was dried blood on her right shoulder, bruises on her face. She had not hidden in the shadows and taken a few wounds as she could – she had darted to the front lines and taken far more damage because of it. "Why do you want to go with him? Why do you think—"

"Because I _love_ him, Lenalee! Would you walk away from Komui – kill Komui – if he was on the wrong side of your war? Or would you do what you could, find some way to find some sacred place where you could be together for as long as you can?" Lavi realized belatedly that he was yelling at her, and that her lavender eyes were wide with shock. "It isn't the same, and I know that. In all likelihood, I will die if I go with him, and he will die if he stays around me. But we'd rather pretend that the world isn't like that than live in fear of what we know is going to happen anyway. And I know. I know that you think it's stupid of me to do this when there is Yuu and all the others. Honestly, I know that it is. Logic never makes that much sense to emotions."

Lenalee stood there, looking at him, blinking with tear-filled eyes. "What do I tell them, Lavi? What do I tell Kanda?"

Lavi looked down at Lenalee's feet, at the pair of blood-red boots glistening in the sunlight. She was cut out for this, had been, just like Allen. He wasn't. Lavi had not been meant to be an Exorcist or a Bookman or anything of the sort. Maybe his first self had, but that person was not the same as he had been nine months ago.

"Tell him I want him to be happy." Lavi whispered. It was perhaps the truest thing he had ever said. "I should tell him that. I want to. I want to explain so much to him, and I don't want to hurt him. He... what he went through to find me..." His certainty wavered, but he caught himself. If he backed out now, if he changed his mind because of what he had found in the cellar, there would be no end to this at all. What had happened there was simply another aspect of Tyki, the dark part, that smiled just as brightly as the man outside. A part that, like the rest, loved him. "There is nothing I can do to make this fair."

"Lavi—" She was crying, it was obvious by the choked off sobs in her voice.

"Don't." He looked up and met her gaze, held it. "Don't ask me to stay."

"Why not?"

"Because I do not want to be cruel."

"What are you saying?"

Lavi clenched both of his hands into fists and squared his shoulders, ignored the pain that rippled up his chest with the tightening of his bruised flesh. "I am not going back to the Order with you."

"But Lavi, your family—"

"I have no family. I have no friends. I have no future." He said the words like a litany, and heard his voice grow louder with each word. They did not hurt they way they should have. It was true that the people of the Order _meant_ something to him, but they were not the things she labeled them as. They were not as important as the concept of _family_ that had been taught to him. "If I cared as much as you seem to think I do, would I not be reluctant? I have left people on the battlefield to die, Lenalee, I can walk away from you standing here. And that is what I intend to do."

No blow could have felled her so quickly, no blade could have cut her so deeply. Lenalee simply slumped to the ground without words and cried in a voice that almost did not sound human, loud and wretched. The sight of her so torn by her desire to bring him home and her desire to see him happy was not enough to make Lavi _feel_ anything besides what he knew he was obligated to. Pity. It was not empathy. He knew then, felt then, his own darkness, twisting around his heart.

This was the right thing to do. No matter what he and Yuu had had, what they might have had, what they could have had, this was still better than lying to himself and to the world. Tyki would see that inside they were the same, and he would understand that their masks were equally well worn. Yuu never would. Yuu would try to make the mask real. Yuu would never love the man who had walked away from so many dying, had killed by inaction. Yuu couldn't. To have a chance, the apprentice Bookman would have to lie. Lying was not love. Even if Lavi did not truly know what love was, he understood that honesty was an integral part of it, and a part that he would never be able to have as completely as he could with Tyki.

Lavi looked at the Noah, and knew that his face was cold and blank and dark. He saw desire and acceptance and understanding behind the older man's eyes. The warmth, despite him, welled in his chest like a wave. It did not make sense to him how he could feel so much for this man and nothing but he had been trained to for the girl beside him.

"Take me home, Tyki." Was what the boy said, and he moved to pick up his Innocence and holster it without a backward glance. "Your home."

* * *

**Next time: Allen and the Order, Kanda and the truth, Lavi and sexual frustration! Look forward to the next installment of: SSP!**

**And... for everyone who was hoping for the OTHER pairing... I have a fic for that with chapter one and part of chapter two written. Once chapter two is finished, I'll start posting it. So no worries – you will get your does of that delicious thing. It took a lot of thought and planning and effort to get this fic to go this way, but I'm really happy that it did. I just hope that you guys are happy too, and keep your eyes out for the new fic in the next month or so.**

**See you next chapter!**


	20. One Moment of Love

**So you might be wondering where Niamh went. The answer is more complicated than it should be. I only ask that you forgive the lateness and the typos, and enjoy the fic.**

**I don't know D. Gray – Man. There's sex and boys and stuff.**

– – –

One Moment of Love

It was the middle of the night when Kanda heard that the world was falling apart around him. He had been denied a mission for his physical health, even if Komui had not insisted that he spend time in the infirmary. It had been almost five days since Lavi had left.

And now Lenalee was in his room, looking as if someone had torn out her insides and made her hollow corpse travel through the Ark and back to the Order. He knew that was how she looked because he had felt that way before. And he knew at once what had happened – instinctively. She did not even need to open her mouth. Perhaps it was something that came from growing up together, or something that came from knowing what it was to lose someone, in either case it did not matter. He knew the moment he saw her.

He didn't feel anything. He couldn't.

They were not close enough to find physical comfort in each other, but he let her sink down to the floor next to the door without a word. He let her pull her knees up to her chest and stare into the center of his room like she expected something to crawl up between the cracks in the floor and say hello.

He let her fall asleep and slipped out when she was nestled in a blanket from his bed.

Numbly, Kanda made his way down the long, dark hallway that lead to the very back of the Order's main building, where he found a flight of narrow, short, dimly lit stairs. He climbed them. The stairwell simply was not used most of the time, because traffic jams were common and often long in solving, but he liked it. It was the easiest route to take to the most isolated part of the building, especially at night.

The roof was cold, the rain – rain he had not even heard – coming down in half-frozen sheets. It would snow before morning.

Kanda closed his eyes to the thought.

– – –

Allen hated Tyki more with every passing moment, though it was the kind of companionable hate he had only ever felt once before. He would have been somewhat amused by the Noah's death – if it was a good or ironic one – and yet he didn't want to kill the man outright. In fact, a part of him appreciated Tyki Mikk's existence simply because of what he was. A man and a Noah, fighting his fate.

Still, it was a little far fetched that a plan like his would work, or even be worth it. To start with, no one was going to believe Allen if he said he found by some friendly farmer unless they actually _found_ a friendly farmer, and in the meantime, he was kind of running out of blood. The bandages became moot at some point, and began to unwind themselves with every step, oozing blood and some clear goo as he went. That was a two-sided blessing. Without the bandages, maybe he could just say no one found him – assuming he didn't bleed out before he actually got to the Gate.

Maybe Tyki had planned it this way. Maybe the Noah wasn't after Lavi at all. Maybe the plan had simply been to lead Allen away long enough to kill the others, and then...but that didn't make sense. That made even less sense than the whole bloody love story, even though that was pretty Goddamn ridiculous, even by Allen's teenage, hormone-blinded, happy-ending addicted standards.

He threw up something almost black on the wall of a building, and made a noise that was half between a retch and a moan. It was two steps and then he simply could not walk anymore. He fell. He fell and landed with his right hand balled into a fist next to his face, blood running out of his mouth, out of his chest, down his stomach. The bandages were gone. And the rain – when had it started to rain? – fell like little pieces of razor against his skin.

Maybe it didn't matter. Maybe he would just die here.

The thought was not as horrifying as it had once been. The thought of dying, of letting himself go, of never waking, offered so many things he had never known. Truly, if he died, that would be the conclusion of his own path. Surely, he would be going forward into eternity, taking the fourteenth Noah with him.

While he lay there, thinking about the attractiveness of death, the world faded into clouds and gentle movements, and eventually, into darkness.

– – –

The morning was an eventful one for everyone, with people moving back and forth from one station to another, searching high and low for very important, missing people. Snow had fallen in a thin, wet layer sometime during the night, casting the entire Order in a blanket of soft white and gray, leeching the color out of the trees outside. It started again just after breakfast, thicker and colder than before. A storm was coming. A storm that would likely be the first true storm of spring.

Kanda never came back from the roof during the night. In fact, the warmth of hands on his shoulders and the changing of the light was his first warning that maybe going up there alone had been a bad idea. The hallway was frighteningly hot, and the lights sinfully bright. He wanted to have a blanket – not that he would ever ask for one – and a dark, empty room, and cooler air. He did not, in the least, want to be put on a bed in the medical wing with a hot bottle of water under his feet and a nurse at his shoulder. He also did not want to give in to the serious feeling of nausea in his stomach, but he did that anyway. All over the table next to him.

Someone let out one of those weak, sickeningly amused laughs.

It took the swordsman a moment to realize that they were trying to heat him up as gradually as possible, and another moment to realize that that wasn't working. After that, he tried to find the origin of that grotesque laugh and found himself with his head tilted to the right, eyes greeted by the last sight he had ever thought to see. It made him smile though, a little. The ironic sort of grin that made him feel like maybe, if the room would just stop spinning, this would be funny. Fate was playing a trick on him. There was no other logical explanation why Bean Sprout would be in the bed beside him, bloody and pale and shirtless, looking for all the world like a delicious juvenile corpse awaiting sacrilegious embalming.

Sacrilegious embalming. Kanda figured that involved a lot of bruising and biting, but he didn't want to think about the details.

Someone took away his blanket and snarled at whoever had thrown it over the swordsman. He wanted to protest, but the cool air of the room did feel better than the heat had. The same person yelled and pointed at two angry looking figures next to Bean Sprout, and sent them toward the hall. Kanda knew those figures, he just didn't care enough to place them at the moment.

The stillness grew slowly. There was still so much commotion, but the people worked in near perfect silence, only speaking when they needed to.

And the damn room wouldn't stop fucking spinning.

"Kan..." The brat was trying to talk to him, even though there was blood running out of his mouth and a woman looking down at him like she was about to either throw up or scream. Idiot. "Kan..."

He took a steadying breath and narrowed his eyes at the British boy. "What?"

The boy's silver eyes turned suddenly very sad, and his left hand twitched a little against the bedding, like a spider with too many broken limbs. When he opened his mouth, Kanda couldn't see his tongue. "Sorry...sorry... I'm... sorry..." It was all Sprout would say. With his weakening breath, his potential _dying breath, _he was just going to apologize.

Kanda felt a glare narrow his eyes even further, and heard the nurse start to protest even before he was moving. And then he was next to Allen, peering down at him, anger and something hot in his chest, sick and dizzy and tired and blind to what it was that had made him move in the first place. He only knew that whatever Bean Sprout was sorry for, it wasn't anything meaningful or worth it. It wasn't worth the brat's life to get those words out. It couldn't be, no matter what he had done.

"You..." The swordsman almost teetered over, but caught himself on the wall that just would not stop moving to his right. "You shut up. Don't talk to me until you aren't..." Someone was trying to pull him away, and he shrugged his shoulder to get them off. His tongue felt numb and slow, and his jaw tight. He hands were starting to shake. "Bleeding so much."

Allen smiled at him. "But... Lavi..."

It hurt to, but Kanda knew that he did not need to hear what the British Exorcist was trying to tell him. Not when the cost was so high. "Che. Tell me later, idiot." The hair against his hand was almost course – not silky at all – and tangled. "Alright?"

"Madrid." It was the clearest thing he had said. "The twenty-third."

Kanda felt that the information was somehow more important than a thousand apologies, and basically had nothing to do with Lavi. He didn't know how that idea was conveyed, or why his whole body was starting to tremble now, but Kanda was not about to let that strange, tingling feeling make him fall. He was not about to let the woman tugging at his shoulder turn him away unless she grabbed him by the ear. "Why?"

"To end the war."

Kanda couldn't talk after that, or hardly stand. He was shivering, he realized. His body had been too cold to shiver. And now there were goosebumps everywhere, and his teeth were clacking together, and the blanket that was draped over his shoulders and the hands that were guiding him back to the bed were like stoppable things. He still did not feel cold, though. He felt that his bones were not bone anymore, and that he was not spinning so vigorously now. He was tired.

He couldn't look at Bean Sprout. In fact, the easiest thing to do was close his eyes and let the dark wash over him.

– – –

The day was over by the time Lavi found himself looking at a rundown, beat up shack of a house, the man holding his hand hesitant and yet yearning to go inside. There were other people there, maybe two or three by the sound of it, and a kind of gentle warmth that even the broken gutters and peeling paint could not hide. Lavi had seen much worse. Yet, he had the feeling that even if he told Tyki that, they were still going to turn around and take an all night train to some other city, far away from this house and the Gate they had crept through to get here.

Perhaps the worst part of it was that it was beginning to snow. That made the little shamble of a house look cozy, even if it was likely just as cold on the inside as it was out.

The hand in his was trembling.

The apprentice Bookman looked at the Noah, at the man he had run away for, and watched him shake his head, a weak smile tugging at his lips. "When you told me to take you home, I thought of them." He explained, and turned his head so the crystalline drops of ice collecting in his hair glittered ever so gently in the golden light. "But I haven't been with them in so long, it wouldn't be like coming home at all. They don't know about my duality, and they shouldn't. Lavi," Tyki looked back at the tiny little door and the steps that lead up to it. "Would you be alright if we rented a room for the night, and then figured out where to go in the morning?"

The redhead nodded. "I understand."

There was something sad about how the older man leaned over him and drew him closer, and also something wonderful about the placement of Tyki's lips on his. Knowing what had happened between them, and knowing that Tyki had watched every moment of his exchange with Lenalee, sent an uncertain hand fluttering to the Noah's chest. They were lucky that standing there in the dark, no one came out of the house to see who was having an intimate moment on the street. Everything was silent until Lavi pulled slowly away, his hand still pressed to Tyki's shirt.

"We should talk, but I really don't want to." Lavi whispered.

"About where we are going, who might die, how we plan to survive..."

Lavi met the Noah's golden eyes and held them. "You still want to kill Exorcists. You would have, if I'd told you it was alright to go after Lenalee."

Tyki shrugged. "Of course."

"Will you stop me, if I decide to kill the other Noah?"

This time, the older man frowned. "We should talk about these things tomorrow, Lavi. There are... things we might decide when the situation doesn't feel so pressing. Look," his hand was very gentle when it touched the redhead's face, tilting it up a little higher. The sincerity in Tyki's eyes was almost staggering. "Let us call a truce for today and tomorrow – no killing, no maiming, no hostility. And then, when we are both tired and clean and enjoying the feeling of relaxing in a rented bed, we can talk about where and what we are going to do, how far we are willing to abandon fate for the sake of our liaison. If they try to call me in... I don't know. Maybe I can pretend I didn't hear."

It was so easy to let himself become convinced that Lavi almost shook his head for the sake in doing it. But there were some things that even if his mind was not completely at ease, his body would not allow him to forget. Those fingers on his chin, however delicate, made him shiver. "You didn't have a plan after finding me, did you? You had thought that... I would just..." He stopped because it was too hard to think about. Too hard to believe how close he actually had been to walking away. And how he had done exactly that to Yuu. "It's pretty obvious that you didn't think about what would happen if I came with you if your plan consists solely of sex."

"Noah of—"

"Pleasure, I know." Lavi could not stop himself from smiling. "Alright, alright, fine, okay, yes. Take me to your hotel and sweep me off my feet and I won't worry about anything else."

Tyki's eyes, still that same gold, turned suddenly warmer, softer, gentler. There was true, dark happiness behind those eyes. "Really?"

"Yes. If you can pretend that I did not do what I did... if you can pretend that I never went back to the Order with Yuu and—"

The Noah chuckled and shook his head. "I'm not pretending, Lavi. Honestly, like I told you before," Tyki's mask wavered. "I don't care if you _keep_ him when all of this is over, as long as I don't need to know he's there."

Lavi shuddered and a cold ripple of fear tingled up his back – icy fear and something much, much hotter. But he felt his smile turn cool, felt his features take on an expression that _Lavi_ simply did not wear. _Lavi_ was not alright with that kind of cruelty, and yet _he _found that he could be, given the right circumstance. If it wasn't _Yuu_. If it had been anyone else, he knew, Lavi might have given it a thought. "You aren't pretending I didn't almost leave ya?"

"Well, are you pretending I didn't ask to kill the little girl in the frilly skirt?"

"No." Lavi blinked. "But I'm kind of pretending I'll always want to tell you no."

Tyki tilted his head to the side and finally, with a thin-lipped frown, turned them away from the house they were not going to enter. He walked them slowly and deliberately away from where they had come, moving at a casual pace. Their feet made soft sounds on the stone walk, wet sounds, now that the snow was sticking. The architecture here was distinctly western European, but Lavi did not try to place it. He did not need to know where he was at the moment – he didn't need to record it. He could close his eye, if he wanted.

He could take off the eye patch, if he wanted.

That didn't make him feel free.

"Did you want to grab dinner someplace? Or should we go find a room first? Maybe a change of clothes is in order for both of us..." Tyki changed the subject and acted as if he was dissatisfied with something near his hip, scoffing lightly under his breath. "I have _dust_ on my kneecaps. What would Sheryl say about that?"

"Um... Please, Tyki, let me lick it off?"

The Noah roared with genuine laughter. They were not touching as they walked, though they were intimately close, and the sound filled the space between them so easy and naturally, it was refreshing. When he stopped, it was with one hand in his pocket, the other pressed to his chest as if he was finding it hard to recover. "Really? I didn't think you had picked up on that." He seemed to reconsider that statement and rolled his eyes.

"You know, I'm kind of a—"

"Bookman's apprentice, I know."

Lavi nodded. "And... it's kinda hard to miss."

Tyki took the younger man's hand and pulled him down a street toward the better side of town. "I suppose. Did you want dinner or—"

"We can always get something from the place we stay..."

"We can."

"And I'd hate to be spotted before I get something to wear besides, you know, Exorcist clothes."

Tyki looked sidelong at the boy walking beside him. "I got so used to you wandering around the house in my shirts, it's almost a shame you now have one that fits."

Lavi laughed softly and squeezed the hand in his. "I'll maybe steal them sometimes. When you aren't around. But I'm going to get my own clothes, not just wear yours."

The Noah cocked an eyebrow. "I suppose I'll have to float you a loan for that."

"The jacket will be good for it. I can get enough free things to get by, sell off the Order's silver, then find myself something to do for money. That's assuming we stay in one place long enough for me to actual _work_, of course." The redhead frowned. "I guess I should look into legal things, and anything that might require knowing how to write." Lavi had never thought about what he might do if he was no longer an apprentice Bookman.

In fact, the whole idea that he wasn't anymore had yet to completely sink in.

"If you don't want to sell it..." Tyki was saying gently. The Noah was so understanding, so full of mirth, it was hard to believe that the darkness underneath of that was likely just as amused as the man outside seemed to be, if for different reasons. "I suppose it's up to you."

"It might just gather dust if I keep it." Lavi said logically. The thought, however, was not comfortable. He didn't want to rid himself of his coat, even if it was the safest thing to do.

Tyki stopped walking.

The snow was falling in flurries and waves, glistening like falling bits of glass in the dark air. Above them, illuminated by nothing but the light from inside the building, was a sign that read _Pig and Still_. The simple carved letters looked like folded gold, frosted with diamonds. The small, adorable pig brewing at a still at the bottom of the sign was almost lost in darkness. The windows were only slightly fogged, ringed with cold, which left the heart of the main room open to inspection, the huge fire burning in the hearth directly in sight, the smiling men gathered around the second closest table quite visible. They had bowls of something dark and thick, and a plate of bread between them.

Lavi's stomach rumbled.

With a slow, wide smile, Tyki tugged his coat off and draped it over the boy's shoulders – creating the effect of a robe, rather than a coat. It made Lavi frown.

"Did you want to go in so they could describe you?" Tyki asked, and opened the door without waiting for an answer.

Lavi wiggled his arms through the sleeves and tugged the too-large garment closed. After a moment of hesitance, he pulled off his eye patch and thrust it into his pocket. "They still can, Tyki. It's not like you rejected their eyes."

– – –

Painkillers, even if they did not work as effectively on parasitic types as they did on normal humans, were swiftly turning into Allen's favorite thing outside of mango pudding. Most of his body and much of his brain was numb. It was so easy to answer the Inspector's questions, he hardly even thought of what was coming out of his mouth, and yet he knew that there were things he couldn't talk about. He didn't talk about Tyki or the new Ark or any of that. He did talk about Madrid. A lot. And some Akuma who had spouted in the information in the fight that had left him wounded.

He was wounded?

Oh, yes, right. Very much wounded.

It was a little distracting how Kanda was sitting there to his left, reclining on a set of pillows that looked too fluffy to be comfortable, his face drawn into a neutral sort of frown, his hands folded under his blanket so Allen could just make out the lump on his stomach. The distracting part was not that Kanda was there, exactly, but that he seemed to be paying so much attention to Allen, and hiding it behind a very disinterested mask.

Link asked him where he had been after he had been wounded. Allen quickly babbled something about the woods – which was true – and fainting – which was also true – and then made up some believable story about dragging himself to his feet when he woke up, tearing open his chest, and stumbling back to wherever the Hell they had found him.

At that point, he was about ready to fall asleep mid-question. It didn't help that the two of them had such uninteresting voices, or that they just stood there without giving him anything to focus on. He already felt tired and sick and hurt and distant – he didn't need an Inspector and an assistant Inspector making him feel worse.

In the end, Link had to explain how the two of them were separated. After that, the two of them were left alone, and the nurse moved Link to the far side of the room – because it was rather obvious that Allen was not going to be awake long, and she did not want him to be forced to talk out of his undying desire to be polite.

So he was given a moment of privacy, while the world faded toward darkness.

"Beansprout." Kanda's low tenor was just a bit louder than a whisper. One might have thought he was trying not to bother the boy, rather than trying not to be eavesdropped on. "What were you trying to say about Lavi?"

The British boy felt a wave of guilt in his chest, felt his eyes try to stay open, but he was losing that fight very swiftly. "I didn't think... he would still be there. And if I had..." Allen couldn't keep his brain on the proper track anymore. It was wavering dangerously between reality and something less tangible. "Kanda..." He tried to turn his head and pull the swordsman into focus, and he heard panic in his own voice. What was he trying to say, again? What was important about Lavi?

The last thing he thought he heard was Kanda's voice, speaking to him in that gently begrudging tone. It wasn't real, Allen knew, because the swordsman never said his name.

– – –

The room was warm and well lit, with one large bed covered in a billion pillows, each one a distinct shade of deep green. It was nicer than any place Lavi had stayed as an Exorcist, that was for sure, and smelled of fresh linens and dried summer flowers – which were kept in a vase next to the wide, dark mirror over the low dresser. There were tasteful details everywhere, little things, like how the fabrics matched. In fact, the weave of the sheets might have been six hundred thread, if his two eyes weren't lying to him at the moment.

Anyone else might have missed those things, the important things, the expensive things. Anyone not trained as a Bookman, at least. Anyone not interested in the bruising, hungry hands on Lavi's flesh, the teeth that sought his skin only to graze it. Lavi was interested in that – very interested – but the other things bled into his mind like strange gray stains, anything but distracting, anything but important. And yet, with his back against the mattress and Tyki's coat tangled around his arms, they were infinitely important in their own regard. The Noah was doing this for him. Every part of it. Paying for such a spectacular room was only a small part.

Lavi could hardly catch his breath, the older man was so intent on his actions. It was not that Tyki swept him up too quickly – that might have been better – but rather that the man moved with such purpose, such finality, it made the redhead feel that this was meant to be the end of something, not the beginning. There was such tenderness, even with Tyki's strong fingers wound around his wrists, that the emotions between them were as undeniable as they were unvoiced.

What surprised him was that the moment the Noah had him pinned, they paused. Tyki simply studied his face in the lamplight, shadows dancing across his features and making them unreadable. It took him a long moment to frown.

"Before we do this, I want you to look at me." Tyki released Lavi's right wrist so he could run his finger's under the boy's right eye. "I mean _look_ at me. The way that you said you could. I want you to see... to see the dark in me, as I have seen it in you." There was something almost melancholy about the man's smile.

Lavi knew that Bookman would not approve of it, but he closed his eyes and prepared to do exactly as the Noah asked. "I'm not afraid anymore." He whispered. "Not of what you are, or what I am, or any of it. I'm not... worried that I'll see something and stop feeling for you." He slowly let his eyes come open, though for a time, his gaze remained unfocused. "Because we are all sinners in this war. Maybe us more than you."

The man in front of him – who was indeed still a man – did not radiate evil in a black aura. He did not twist or morph or swell with killing intent. But he was _different_. There were bad things – _evil_ things – that clung to him as closely as his skin, parts of him that were darker than the sea on a moonless night, moving in the same sort of waves. The face behind Tyki's – Lavi could make out them both – was covered with what might have been a knight's helm, blood splattered, and deadly. The hands that touched Lavi were almost clawed, gnarled, and shining like black talons. But it was the eyes, jet pools of reflective water, that were the strangest and the most obviously inhuman, though Lavi could hardly see them. They showed everything that he had seen until now with absolute perfection. Mercilessness, cruelty, fearlessness, lust, apathy. And beneath that, behind the things that had created this creature of restrained madness, there was the emotion Lavi had not understood most of his life.

And it was selfish. Cold-hearted and selfish.

The glimpse left him shaken and weak, left his right eye blurry and aching, but it did not leave him _feeling_ any differently for the Noah that straddled his black clad legs against the olive green comforter. It left him without a shadow of a doubt. There was more, of course. There were terrible things that the Noah had done, people he had killed, hurt, stolen, and if Lavi looked long enough, he would be able to name those sins one at a time, moving toward the very beginning of time.

It was hard – very hard – but Lavi was willing to try and forget about all of it. He was willing to close his eyes and let it go.

Because he was sure that his own reflection looked something similar.

"Lavi... I shouldn't have—"

He shushed the older man, and realized only with the sound that his right eye was indeed crying silent tears down the side of his face. He wanted to wipe them away, but the Noah did it for him. "No, I'm happy you did. Because now, if they ever find me, I can tell them that I _know_ what you've done, and that I don't give a fuck." He laughed, and the sound was broken to his ears.

The Noah kissed him softly, and the hand that rested on his cheek fell slowly to his side, and finally to his hip. The kiss was slow. When they parted, Lavi let his eyes come open again. The man above him was smiling softly, his dark eyes filled with relief.

The hand on his hip traveled to his thigh and jerked away; Tyki hissed softly, his golden eyes wide. _"Innocence."_ He said it like a curse. "I forgot all about that."

Lavi reached down enough to take the tiny hammer from its holster and hold it in his hand. He hadn't Fallen. Not yet. And he did not feel anything out of the ordinary from the crystal-made weapon. It felt the same as always – _his_, and nothing more. "Yeah, you should be careful..." He almost pulled the weapon away when Tyki curled his fingers around his hand, encasing it almost tenderly. Instead, he waited, and watched the Noah's eyes on the Innocence. "Maybe if you look at it long enough, it will tell you what it thinks of you, and then you can be friends." He offered in a small voice with an equally small smile.

Tyki's eyes flicked from Lavi's face to the Innocence, looking none too confident in either. After an awkward moment, he cleared his throat and spoke in a solemn, authoritative voice."Alright little... hammer. We need to have an accord." Tyki looked perfectly serious, his eyes not even the slightest bit amused. "You irritate me to no end, but you are welcome to stay with us peacefully. As long as you do not harm _me_ or Lavi, you can stay in a box under the bed and out of the way."

"Hey!"

"Or on Lavi's person, assuming he isn't in bed with me."

The redhead pulled his hand back, taking the Innocence with it, and leaned up just enough to touch his forehead to Tyki's. "Good. If you're done, I think you need to have an equally serious conversation with the rest of me." Somehow, it didn't seem odd to phrase it that way, and the Noah didn't question him outright. Perhaps, Lavi thought, Tyki understood just how much the weapon was a part of him, now that they were this close with it in the same room. "Because I swear, if I don't get a long, quiet lecture about how stupid of me it was to think I had to go back—" He was cutoff by the press of Tyki's mouth against his, by the tilt of the Noah's hips in a hard, suggestive grind. The bed beneath him creaked. Lavi wanted to put his hammer away, but realized it would be difficult with Tyki's fingers wrapped around his wrist.

When the kiss broke, it was only long enough for them to breathe. The Innocence slipped from Lavi's fingers and he decided that it could just stay there on the comforter if they were careful of it. It did not _feel_ like it was about to hurt anyone.

Lavi thought that maybe Tyki had interpreted his request for a lecture perfectly when a hand took hold of his belt and began to pull on it. The hum in the older man's throat made him want to reach out and divest the Noah of his shirt, but that also was not about to happen in their current position. And to make matters worse, the older man pulled back just enough to look him directly in the eyes.

"Lavi," Tyki breathed, and rested his weight on Lavi's hips.

"What?"

The Noah did not seem to notice the disappointment in Lavi's voice. "If... we do this..." There was something strange about the phrase, something wrong. It was as if Tyki wanted with all of himself to stop talking and continue with what they had started, but something dictated that he couldn't. He shook his head, and his tousled hair just barely brushed at Lavi's forehead. "No, never mind. We _should_ do this. I just... I don't want to make you feel as if this is the only thing I missed about you. I also missed..." He paused, and his expression turned playful. "Your cooking..."

Lavi snorted. "Yeah, right. You realize that I burn everything I cook by myself, right? I mean, you didn't give me much of a chance to try when my sight came back, but—"

"Oh, I'm sure that we both have our shortcomings." Tyki cocked a curious eyebrow. "But you know what I'm getting at, Lavi. As dark as I am, there is more to me than what we both want at this moment." He moved just the slightest bit, and his smile widened. "Really want, I should say, shouldn't I?"

"No use lying about it." Lavi shrugged with just his shoulders and matched the Noah's expression. He felt suddenly like there was nothing wrong in the world if they man could smile at him like that – the mask was so perfect it was a part of Tyki's face. Despite that, Lavi understood perfectly well that it was untrue – lovely, and untrue. "What d'ya say? You wanna keep kissing me, or do you want to take things slow for the sake of sanity?"

The Noah's face split in a too wide grin. "Well, if you don't mind..." Tyki's hands began to roam again, slipping just two fingers into one of Lavi's front pockets. "We all go a little insane sometimes, do we not?"

The redhead found himself nodding, found himself arching from the mattress, pulling the older man into him. He let out a little growl and nipped softly at Tyki's throat. "Only a little?"

Tyki nodded into his shoulder wordlessly. He unbuckled the Exorcist's belt and then went for the button of his pants, his bottom lip momentarily pressed between his teeth. His long fingers made short work of the fastener, and then slipped upward, under Lavi's shirt and jacket, and across the pale expanse of flesh that made up the boy's stomach. The Noah's topaz eyes held Lavi's gaze unwaveringly. "Some of us more than others..." It was a distant sort of observation, not something he truly meant; his attention was wholly devoted to drawing a slow, tender line across the top of Lavi's pants and down into the newly divided valley made by the parting of his fly.

Lavi did not mind in the slightest.

The prelude had been slow, but there was simply no denying what they both wanted any longer. With fierce moments and uncaring fingers, Lavi moved to free Tyki from most of the restraints of his clothing. His fingers did not shake, and his eyes did not wander. He worked with everything he had ever known, everything he had ever done, and used every bit of his knowledge to his advantage. It didn't matter that there had been someone else, or that the two of them had only half-known the truth before. It also did not matter that Lavi was looking almost up at the Noah, or that the room was dim with only one lamp lit, cast in tumultuous shadows.

Lavi's pants found their way to his knees and he did not think the heat in him would wait to get much more naked. He pushed his boxers down with them, and ran a clawing hand down the backside of Tyki's pants.

Tyki shivered. His mouth was open and pressed to Lavi's throat, his hair tangling against the boy's chin. He kissed downward for a moment, changed his mind and came back to Lavi's mouth, so desperate he didn't seem to notice how little foreplay had actually gone on. It was as if he was in the midst of blind bloodlust, only his eyes were soft brown, and his forehead unmarred by the scars of his family. His touch, however torturous, was surprisingly tender.

And the instant Lavi ask him, the Noah nodded. Lavi didn't think about what he knew about Tyki, or what he thought the Noah might like from their time together – he acted on instinct. And when he heard Tyki say his name in a broken, shaken whisper, and watched the man frantically search through his clothes for a tiny bottle of _something_ cool and slick, Lavi knew that he had done what might have been morally sound, but what had been _right_. And then thinking felt difficult. He realized, a bit belatedly, that Tyki was trying to figure how they might maneuver into a better position without rejecting any amount of their clothing.

Lavi rolled onto his stomach without even the slightest hint of embarrassment and turned over his clothed shoulder to look back at the other man, all of his weight on the heels of his hands and his knees. The expression on the Noah's face was almost comical. "Is something wrong?" It was the most wit he could muster at the moment. And it was better than pleading.

To his mild surprise, Tyki leaned forward and pressed his fingers gently forward in place of his length, the liquid that covered them making the intrusion easier. His eyes were dull gold, but the scars that so often covered his face were missing. "No." It was uncharacteristic of him to let the word stand alone, but he paused, though his fingers kept moving. Before he spoke again he blinked very slowly. "I can't help but think of how I felt when all of this started – when you were just a toy that had not turned out as I had expected. When I had thought..." His eyes closed, and when they opened again they were full of the same emotion as before, only it could not be cold and selfish now, for some reason. It was fire, as hot and dark as Lavi has ever seen it. "I was such a fool."

"You didn't know... that doesn't mean you were a fool." Lavi wished a little that they would stop talking – it would make pressing himself back into those two long, gentle fingers a little less awkward. "I didn't know, either, Tyki. I didn't know we would..." He searched for a word or a phrase, but he couldn't think of the right one. And it wasn't as if the words were important anyway. Not at the moment.

Tyki's fingers left him, slipping out slowly, gently, as if he would break if handled too strongly. "But we do now, don't we?" The Noah whispered, and replaced his fingers with his length, a change that made Lavi shudder with a soft, breathy sound.

The redhead nodded, and balled his right hand into a fist against the comforter. "I feel that I love you." He said, and knew that that was not the proper way to say it, but he didn't know exactly how to convey what he meant. "But how do you know that you love someone if—" He cut himself off and leaned back when Tyki moved forward, and his back pressed flush to the Noah's chest. "If you don't know anything about..."

Tyki laughed in a rumble that Lavi could feel all the way down his spine. His voice was husky and dark. "And you think _I_ do?"

"Heh." Lavi bent a bit more toward the bed, the better to arch his spine without tearing the clothes still wrapped around his knees. "Good point."

From there, talking had very little to do with the situation. He gave himself up to what he had wanted for so long, and simply allowed himself to enjoy their closeness, their inseparability. After so long, it was difficult to stay slow, to stay gentle, and so Lavi informed his lover that they didn't need to be – they had never really been before, so why start now? The mention of before brought teeth to his clothed right shoulder, and a hand to his, both of which were somehow more reassuring than they had any right to be. But he didn't have time to think about it. He had only enough time to think about the sensation, how familiar it was, how he knew exactly what the older man might want.

He remembered the first time he had fumbled and fallen into bed with Yuu.

He remembered the first time he had clawed his way into bed with Tyki. Figuratively speaking.

He remembered feeling sick with himself when it had all tumbled back into his head like a handful of marbles.

Lavi could not, no matter how he tried, push the thoughts and memories away completely, so he eventually gave up on trying. Instead, he let them wander in front of his minds eye while his fingers did interesting things with the newly exposed sheets, tracing lines and circles Tyki's scars. Eventually, there was nothing between them breath before the Noah somehow pulled away and slipped turned beneath him, dark eyed and expectant. Wanting to see his face. There was no reason to think of the past then. No time to contemplate their future. There was only pressure and a little pain, fingers on his hips, and a gasping mouth just out of comfortable reach, his heart beating like a drum in his chest.

There was more emotion in it this time – more confusion. The aftermath left him drained and unsure, tingling with physical ecstasy that could only fog the edges of his vision and twinge the lining of his heart. But the moment the Noah's arms draped him in warmth and gathered him beneath the blankets, he did not think he could bear to the think about his insecurities anymore.

"No matter what happens, Lavi," Tyki's voice was heavy with what might have been exhaustion or contentment. "No matter what happens now..."

"What?"

The answer was nothing but a whisper, laced with things that were unreadable without an expression to go with it. "I will be as human as I can, barring the apocalypse."

Softly, a knowing smile spread across the redhead's lips. "Yeah, me too."

– – –

**Continuation to come in... a while?**


	21. Killing Loneliness

**I do not own D. Gray – man. If I did... well, there would be fewer dumbasses, I would hope.**

– – –

Twenty-one: Killing Loneliness

The days melted into each other, each one the same as the last, each mission as disappointing as the first. It didn't help that half of them were false leads and two of them were complete failures. It didn't help that every time Kanda saw Allen recovering from his wounds, he felt a thrill of warmth in his stomach that shouldn't have been there.

It was as if Lavi's loss – Lavi's _betrayal_ – had opened a wound in him that was shaped very specifically, and that shape matched something in Allen Walker. He hated the idea. Every time he found himself thinking of the younger man, found himself staring, entertaining strange thoughts, or wondering about odd things. He would berate himself and mentally commit suicide. In the end, it didn't help. He thought of things still. And then, after nearly two weeks without Lavi to tame him, Kanda found himself on the same sofa as Bean Sprout, thinking about what might have been the least important thing in the world.

The brat's eyelashes were white. Like little feathers. They fluttered against his cheek every time he blinked, and he blinked often. Kanda could not help but think of doves.

At Kanda's sides, his hands clenched into fists and relaxed themselves. He felt irritated as his own ineptitude. He was supposed to be sitting here in the lounge reading his next mission description, not ogling the under-aged Exorcist beside him.

He had dealt with the idea that there was something that attracted him. He had not yet decided to give in to the attraction.

Bean Sprout looked up at him, silver eyes round with that childlike innocence he had only begun to shake off in the last year. There was something haunted in his expression, like a shadow that danced behind his eyes, like fire hidden in his soul. It burned with such a determination, Kanda almost had to respect him for it.

"Kanda, are you alright?" The boy's voice was just a whisper between them, just enough to be heard, quiet enough to be misheard by his chaperone.

The swordsman wanted to be honest, but didn't know how to be. "Che."

The brat smiled at him. A fake smile. At least Lavi was a good actor most of the time – Allen was as transparent as glass. "I see."

Kanda shook his head, turned back to his mission description. He had gleaned that it was about a place in Barcelona, likely so he could be in Madrid at the time Allen had said they needed to be there without changing the schedule of investigations too much. Other than that, the words were little black blots of ink with no meaning. He didn't even know where the Innocence was supposed to be, or what it did.

"I've been meaning to ask you..." Bean Sprout muttered, turning a page. "What do you think of voyeurism?"

Kanda blinked at the report in front of him. Voyeurism? Was that a disease? A religion? He scowled. "How should I know?"

The brat looked at him again, unable to pretend to be reading, and blinked a few times. His white eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks, perfect, even though the left was marred with the curse mark. A sly little smile slipped across his lips. "Recently you have been looking at me very closely, like you want to see something that you can only see up close. Sometimes... sometimes I feel like you're trying to see beneath my skin or... my clothes..." He shifted a little awkwardly, and the damnable shirt he was wearing made his neck tie fall crooked, ruffled to emphasize the angle of his shoulders. The white fabric made his black left hand look like ebony. There was a gleam in his eyes like he had a twisted plan to weave around the swordsman he shared the couch with, something Kanda would not enjoy. "I would suggest I simply show you whatever you're after, but I my shadow has eyes these days, you know?"

Kanda wouldn't have understood, but Allen's eyes wandered to the blond man at the side of the room pretending not to be trying to eavesdrop. He also wouldn't have understood if the boy hadn't openly leered at him, his dulcet eyes suddenly tempting.

Too much had happened recently, too much had gone wrong. He had lost Lavi twice. And the little idiot he was looking at now had been just inches from death not long ago. It was stupid, and somewhat embarrassing, but Kanda had had enough of it. Enough of frustration and losing. Enough of watching the things he didn't think he wanted slip out of his grasp before he could wrap his fingers around them. What did it matter if he was older than the Bean Sprout? What did it matter if the brat embodied everything he hated about Exorcists? What did he care if part of him hurt every time he tried to think of certain things?

"I'm borrowing your charge." Kanda hissed, and took Allen by the sleeve without so much as even a moment's pause. Link's reaction happened a split second too slowly – he had the brat out of the lounge and down the hall before he heard the shriek of boot-leather sliding on stone. They had turned a corner already, and he turned two more for good measure before he pulled the younger Exorcist up a short flight of stairs to pause at a stone archway, shrouded in shadows. They would have many ten minutes. Probably five.

The white haired boy stood with his back to the stone, his breath fast and hot and quiet, close enough to Kanda for the swordsman to feel it spreading against his throat. There wasn't that much space to stay out of view of anyone walking in the next hall. "Kanda, I meant—"

"Shut up." It came out as a growl and his right hand released Allen's left – he hadn't even thought about which one he was grabbing – before it took a firm hold on the Bean Sprout's collar. "Shut up. And stay shut. I don't give a damn what you _meant_ to say." He paused to breathe, to catch himself, to ensure himself that he knew what he was doing.

Those snow white eyelashes looked like silver veils. Those parted lips, so close to speaking, looked soft beyond measure.

Kanda leaned down more slowly than he intended and pressed his mouth to Allen's. The touch was more tender than he had hoped for, and those eyes held his the whole time.

Allen, as far as the swordsman knew, hadn't kissed many people, but he didn't immediately fail at the act. His lips parted ever so slightly, but his tongue did not leave the confines of his mouth, he did not try to control or dominate or perform some kind of subterfuge. It was only a tentative brush of contact, and it sent waves of warmth up Kanda's spine and down his chest. The kiss deepened without his will. His free hand caught the one that reached for his hair and held it suspended between them where he could know exactly what it was doing.

Their hands stayed together when their lips came apart. Bean Sprout's expression was almost smug, the light from the other side of the archway making it hard to tell the exact color of his irises. His left hand – Kanda had no way of catching that one – took a firm hold of the swordsman's hair and pulled him closer.

"I don't care how or when or where," Allen's voice was a whisper laced with sweet venom, the words like painful promises though they should not have carried so much weight. His fingers brushed at the back of Kanda's neck. "I want you anyway I can have you."

Kanda felt himself start to sneer at those words, but the tone, the part that made them heavy, was still in the air despite his unwillingness to pay it heed. "You can't get away from Rick, can you?"

"Link. And no. Not long enough."

The swordsman felt himself frown. "Then shut up while we have time." He leaned again, but the hand in his hair acted as a leash to hold him just far enough away.

"Have a fight with me."

"What?"

Allen's smug expression turned almost gleeful. "In the cafeteria before we leave, fight with me. If we fight far enough, we should have at least a little ti—"

This time, Kanda caught the boy's mouth with merciless force, and felt it reflected back at him at once, perfectly timed, perfectly steady. The hand in his struggled until it reached his neck and then curled into his shirt, leaving him free tug at that annoyingly crooked neck tie that still hung from Allen's throat. They broke and came together again, and a small sound found its way out of Kanda's mouth.

There were a lot of questions that needed be answered, but that could wait. Right now, he had two minutes or less and a plan. And he intended to stay as he was, kissing the last person on Earth he had expected to kiss willingly, his hair falling from its tie with every subtle movement of Bean Sprout's fingers. There was heat in his face and in his hands, a sort of tingle that made every brush of contact feel like a delicious prelude to something more – something he had found himself envisioning more and more often these last few weeks. In his mind there were no details besides the scarred texture of Allen's skin and the warm press of his mouth; he didn't assign them a location, didn't think beyond the idea of simply being wound up skin to skin.

Teeth pressed just a little to his lip, experimenting. Kanda responded with a gentle touch of tongue to the other boy's mouth.

The pounding of his heart in his ears must have drowned the thump of footfalls on the staircase behind him – he sensed the intruder's presence rather than hearing them. Instinct told him to turn on the person with Mugen, but he couldn't. His hands were busy. And even if they hadn't been, Allen's hand had found the hilt of the sword at his hip and now kept it steady, a silent plea against violence.

Kanda pulled away even as Link began to stammer.

Bean Sprout's face was just gently flushed, his eyes just a little lust glazed, his lips a deeper shade of red than normal. Behind Allen's face, the swordsman could imagine the thoughts and desires within him had taken on a physical form that now looked out from his eyes, completely indifferent to the fact that there was now an assistant Inspector watching them. Those eyes were only for Kanda.

"I'm assuming this will just be casual?" Bean Sprout whispered between the two of them.

"Che."

Link still had not picked an angle for verbal attack, it seemed, as he was still blabbering on in incomplete sentences. Kanda intended to use that to his advantage for the moment.

With a sweep of half-loose hair and one last, hungry look at Allen, the swordsman turned and glared at their intruder – who looked less intimidated than Kanda would have liked. Maybe it was difficult to take a man seriously with his shirt rumpled and his hair a genuine mess, but Kanda did not care. He only cared that Link understood the situation exactly as he needed to.

"He wasn't alone, didn't do anything strange, and tastes like mango. I'll be ready to go in an hour."

He took the stairs two at time to increase the distance between them. He was not quite far enough away not to hear the word 'mango' echoed in a shaking voice some seconds later.

– – –

It was nearly fifteen minutes before Allen had Link convinced that no, the Church did not need to know the specifics of what was going on with Kanda any more than they needed to know how often Link spent ten extra minutes in the shower alone. After that, the blond was curious for curiosity's sake but kept quiet, though he sometimes started to say something and then reconsidered before falling into awkward silence.

Allen still dragged him to lunch, and ordered a meal he would be at least half satisfied with. He did not want too much food, otherwise he would have trouble running away from Kanda when the time came.

He was halfway through his second dessert when it did. The swordsman sitting just one space over and across from him said something clipped and snipped at him – just a little poke at his pride – and Allen quipped back, insulting the man's hair. They went back and forth for nearly three minutes (it may have been a record in wit on Kanda's part) before the Japanese man finally became too disgruntled and annoyed and drew his sword in anger. Allen parried a few blows, his own ire rising. Slowly, making a great show of things, he allowed Kanda to back him toward the door and eventually into the hall. There, he ran. He ran as fast and hard as he could, only half concerned that the swordsman would not manage to keep up despite his longer stride. He went down two flights of stairs and down a narrow hallway, up a flight and down a different one, two more flights and out a door that lead from the main building to the graveyard – where a thousand unmarked graves made him dart to the left and the eastern wing.

It was by far the least direct path he had ever taken to his room, but he eventually found himself there, breathing in gasps and sighs, a presence just two steps behind him. The moment the door opened another hand pushed it next to his head and he stumbled inside – only to be caught and turned and pulled against the other man's chest. The door closed and they stood against it. Kanda's scent, his warmth, his closeness, nearly drowned him.

"How did it end up like this?" The question was out of his mouth in little more than whisper despite his will. He could feel the arms around him tighten, and wondered what that meant, exactly. Allen felt his chest clench.

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes it—"

"You should just be selfish and accept it."

Allen turned to look up at the swordsman to study whatever expression he found on the man's angled features. He could not read what he found very easily, too distracted by his own thoughts and too willing to project them behind Kanda's eyes. There was one thing he had not expected to find, and it made him hesitate. Kanda was not supposed to look like he was in pain, not without being wounded.

"Che. Don't look at me like you pity me, Bean Sprout." The words were just audible.

Allen shook his head. "I don't. I can't. I just don't understand you."

"That's not unusual." It wasn't a complaint in the slightest, the little lift of Kanda's lips proved it. "But I don't need you to understand me."

It was difficult for Allen to not act defiant towards the swordsman, more out of habit than actual concern. "Then what do you need?"

Kanda didn't answer verbally. His lips, soft and yet demanding, pressed momentarily to Allen's mouth. When he pulled away it was only for a moment, only to let his liquid eyes take in Allen's expression before he bent a second time, his fingers wound up in shirt like he might lose his grip if he loosened his hands. There was something strangely ardent about how he held on, almost restraining himself, almost desperate. Though something in the older man seemed off, Allen could no more bring himself to ask than he could bring himself to worry about Link finding them in the most likely place possible.

So he let his fingers just barely touch Kanda's hips, let them trace gently upward along the crisp fabric of the swordsman's shirt. A shiver went up Kanda's spine and Allen felt it echo down his back. Desire twisted in his gut. His heart fluttered half-pleasantly and his eyelids followed suit; the two of them separated and a breath caught in the space between them like a feather paused mid-fall.

"I hate you."

Allen felt a smile curl his lips genuinely. What else could he expect from Kanda? Nothing. Ever. "Of course you do."

It could not have been guilt that filled the swordsman's eyes like unshed tears. It was something else, like loathing or indifference. But the palm that pressed to Allen's cheek and pulled his face higher was ginger like the boy might break under too much pressure. "Do you... hate me?"

"What?" The British Exorcist strangled a laugh. "What does it matter? Worried I'll bite your willy out of spite, Kanda? The Lord knows you're like to grow it back if someone did." The humor in his statement fell on deaf ears. The hand on his face slipped back into his hair and smoothed through it in a caress Allen had never imagined that hand capable of. He wanted to simply stop talking and tilt into the larger man, to press their mouths together and give in to whatever instinct told him. Instead, he faltered. Kanda patiently waiting for a real answer unsettled him. "No. I... I don't hate you."

"I see."

"What does that have to do with this, though?"

The swordsman frowned ever so slightly. "Nothing."

Allen searched those dark eyes for something, anything, that would tell him what to do. When he found nothing, he stopped short, confused. "Kanda, if you want this to mean something—"

"Shut up." The words were filled with bittersweet things, Kanda's eyes with pain they had previously lacked. He didn't move away.

The British Exorcist closed his eyes to the words. How did he go about saying that even if they were hardly friends, they were still comrades? He didn't know how to start. "Whatever. Just... just kiss me, Kanda. There isn't a reason to talk about these things. Not when—" He couldn't speak through the swordsman's lips, couldn't stop the hands that pulled and pushed and edged him away from the door. There was no fighting the other man's intentions, not when they were basically in line with his own. The things that shocked him were his own lack of nervousness, Kanda's gently trembling fingers, and the pressure of his bed frame on the backs of his legs, familiar and yet so very different. There were universal truths in the world – things that he could not imagine, things that had to exist.

The awkward catch of air in Kanda's throat, like a twisted, muted little gasp, could not have been real.

Allen did not know how long they sat there on the edge of his mattress, fingers sliding through his hair and down his arms, palms pressed to his chest as if questing for a heartbeat, kisses pressed to his lips and his throat at different intervals. It felt like a small eternity. It felt like forever and no time at all. But slowly, despite their equal willingness to push boundaries Allen had not known he'd had, their enthusiasm faltered. The eyes that looked up at him were unrealistically moist, hazed with a fog that sent a pang of jealousy and guilt through him.

Anger didn't follow – it couldn't. Curiosity, confusion – the two mingled in the back of his mind and nudged the veil of desire out of the forefront of his thoughts.

Kanda stared at him. Allen stared right back.

"Che." The sound was a half-curse.

"Kanda—"

The swordsman shook his head in an unusually childish display of frustration. His hands found the British Exorcist's shoulders and pushed him back, bearing down on him, until Kanda straddled his hips, hair falling like a tattered black curtain around them.

Allen waited. Kanda's expression told him exactly what he needed to know.

"You can't." Allen said softly, and watched the dark eyes above him widen in surprise. "You want to, but you can't. It's nice, but you can't. Not without..." He didn't know how to articulate the idea without wounding the swordsman's pride, and paused. It took only a moment for him to realize that it didn't really matter if he did anyway. "Not without showing me something you don't want me to see. It's fine, Kanda."

"No it isn't."

Allen didn't want to argue with that hollow whisper, but he knew he had to. He let his hands fall to the mattress, let the older boy pin him. The illusion of control was important. "Yes, it is. If you want to tell me things then tell me. If you want to cry then cry."

"It doesn't _work_ that way."

"I'm just an idiot bean sprout with a martyr-complex and no sense of self-worth and a dishonest smile, what am I going to do to you?"

Kanda blinked down at him, caught off guard, his own thoughts hanging in the air between them. His face tilted down just slightly, so that his bangs hung between them, blocking his eyes from Allen's view. He breathed slowly for a moment as if to steady himself for something painful. "I can't... get it out of my head." He didn't go on at first, as if he expected Allen to interrupt. "That idiot..."

Allen bit his tongue.

"There are things that you don't ever say to people when you can, and you tell yourself that you do not expect them to be there tomorrow, so what's the point. But then they are gone, just as suddenly as you told yourself they were going to be." Kanda shook his head ever so slightly. "And then you can't regret it."

"Kanda—"

"Shut up. I'm talking."

Allen almost laughed, almost reached up and punched the man straddling his hips. It had never occurred to him that the swordsman was the least bit childish, but now he could see that he was, a little, hidden behind everything else. Most of the time, Kanda conducted himself like a normal, semi-mature young man, and others...

Allen thought of their arguments, of the fights that usually ended with one of them bleeding, the other bruised and annoyed. Maybe Kanda wasn't really grown up at all. "Enough talking; you aren't saying anything. I got it way back when you stopped kissing me." Allen hated himself for being adult in a situation like this one. "Just... stay here with me, in this room, on this bed, until someone comes in and finds us here alone. And stop thinking that if you don't do this right now, we'll never have the chance again. We both have reasons we can't die." He felt his stomach clench up into a little ball of annoyance and lies. "I'll wait."

The swordsman didn't thank him, but he smiled behind the shadow of his hair.

– – –

Lavi did not know what he expected of their nomadic wandering across Europe, but he knew an empty bed in the morning was not on his list after the first three towns. Consistently, every morning would begin with Tyki by his side, and the knowledge that no matter what happened, the Noah would be beside him as surely as the sheets would be on the mattress beneath them.

When the pattern changed, the redhead was not entirely sure that he should get out of bed.

Memories crept up on him like imaginary figures lurking in shadows. The woman Tyki had killed. Yuu tied up in the cellar. Blood flavored kisses. If Tyki was out there, tearing apart an innocent, Lavi had decided to accept him, to ignore the cold feeling that filled his heart like ice water.

The room they were sharing felt impossibly large, and the moment Lavi's bare toes touched the dark gray carpet the walls seemed to withdraw another mile. The empty space on his side of the bed stretched on and on to the closed, locked door, still but for the flutter of dust in the morning sun, gold in the room of deep browns. He crept out of the covers and moved away from the door. The bathroom would be a safe place to start his search for Tyki, even if it didn't actually house the missing Noah.

Empty. The whole room, the bathroom, the closet. All of it empty. Lavi did not allow himself to become worried or frantic.

Instead, he spent nearly an hour picking out an outfit that was decidedly un-Lavi-like and combing his hair into a position that did not look pillow-sculpted. His two-eyed reflection studied him from inside the bathroom mirror for almost ten minutes, gently miss-matched eyes cool and awake and thoughtful, like the gaze of a poet set in the face of Lavi's less boisterous twin. It was almost creepy and almost nostalgic. He did not think he really had the time to think about the nuances of his identity, though, when Tyki was not there too sneak up behind him and remind him of the choices he had made and the past he had buried with all the others.

Lavi gathered what he thought he might need if he had to make a run for it in the middle of town – which constituted a small bundle of clothes and a handful of money – before he slipped out the door and down the hall. The gray carpet gave way to wood. The light paint gave way to textured, flowery wallpaper. He kept both of his eyes directed straight ahead, just in case Tyki came barreling down the hallway at him in fear that he might wake up alone.

No such romantic hogwash happened. Lavi found himself in the main body of the inn without seeing a soul.

In the back of his mind he wondered exactly how far they had come and how far they would go, but he didn't let the passing worry show on his face. Instead, he allowed a lazy sort of grin to curl his lips and narrow his eyes. Like a swashbuckler was his thought, but he wasn't altogether sure he could pull the look off without the eyepatch.

The maid that came out of a service door paused for a moment and looked at him before a smile spread across her square, boyish face and cast a delightful glow to her features. "Ah, Mr. McLaughlin said you might be off looking for him! He went to catch breakfast with his brother in town – said he'd be back b'fore noon if he had any luck. You know the bakery across from the church? He said they'd be there, likely." She blinked at him curiously, not staring, and bobbed her head in agreement with herself. "Was it... Larry? Sorry, I'm not good with names."

"Lavi." He said instinctively. "But don't worry about it, I'm not good with them either."

She nodded, and her dark hair moved across her chin with the motion. "Well, sir, I'm sure you should join them – if they aren't finished yet. Have a good morrow."

Lavi smiled and watched her go back the way she had come before he went out into the morning sun.

The bakery, if he remembered, was south from the inn. Shirley would be surprised to see him, Lavi imagined, but he didn't let the thought stop him. If he was going to live with a Noah, sleep with a Noah, and love a Noah, he would damn well do everything in his power to ingrain himself into that Noah's life. When he thought of it that way, like a cutthroat sort of war with nature, it made the smile on his face that much easier to maintain.

And it made catching sight of the two darkly clad men outside the bakery seem like some sort of challenge.

He waved at them. Tyki waved awkwardly back. Sheryl sipped his tea with purposeful slowness, his horse-face drawn into a condescending sort of smirk. Maybe the guy was an arrogant ass – Lavi didn't know and didn't care – he just wanted to know what the two of them were doing together. Promises had been exchanged that involved staying as human as possible. Sheryl's presence didn't bode well for those words.

"My, you look genuinely like a cat who spilled the cream, Lavi. Has something happened?" Tyki asked gently, and gestured for him to pull up another chair from a near by table if he felt so inclined. The redhead did. "Ah... I didn't exactly tell you where I was going this morning, did I?"

"No, you didn't." Lavi answered coolly, and placed his chair between the brothers and plopped himself down on it. "I was thinking you'd run off or something. I dunno, changed your mind. But whatever, I'm paranoid. Shall we flag down a waitress for another cup for tea?"

Sheryl nodded. "By all means. We were just discussing the next family gathering. Tyki seems to think veal is tasteless."

"Tyki is tasteless. He doesn't know a clove of garlic from a head of garlic."

The subject of their conversation frowned deeply. "An error that has been remedied. Though, I believe we should call breakfast short today – Sheryl has things to do and I have assignments to avoid. And you, Lavi, have some secrets to keep from me. But first... you said he had been spotted where?" Tyki asked his brother, and brought his tea cup to his lips with exaggerated care. It felt to Lavi that their whole conversation up until now had had nothing to do with whatever Tyki was bringing up, and veal had been the farthest thing from their minds.

War. They had been discussing the war.

"Spain, though I can't imagine why." Sheryl answered. He knew why. He knew something was happening there. "This time of year the surf is good, but there's little other reason I could think to visit."

Tyki nodded. "The surf?"

Sheryl smiled wanly. "Indeed."

Something was happening in Spain. Something important. Something having to do with the war. Lavi could read it. Tyki could not grasp as much. Sheryl wanted to say more, but was unwilling to share with the apprentice Bookman so close. It, however, was enough.

Lavi would figure it out before Tyki did. And then, he would know.

"It's rather unfortunate, really, the whole ordeal." Sheryl told his tea cup, and began to stir it ever so slowly. His expression remained quietly amused, teasing. It was just another layer, another secret, for Lavi to unravel. "The dead are not good at dying these days, are they? Though you are no exception. But first _him_ and now this? It's really getting to the point that one has to wonder if you really try anymore."

Tyki stiffened. He did not like where the conversation was going. "Sheryl—"

"That's three, Tyki. Three. What are we supposed to do about a number like that?"

Lavi wanted to say something to break the sudden tension, but found that he could not. Not even a whisper. He was the third, then, he realized, but who were the other two?

"Watch yourself or there might be questions later."

– – –

The only thing Barcelona did for him was get his hair tangled. The sun and wind made his skin feel tight. Just like anywhere else with a breeze, really. The city didn't stick out to him in any way, not even a little. Kanda had seen too many places.

The way he thought of it, there was little new in the world and even less that he cared to see regardless of age. Perhaps it was that indifference, coupled with the black of his coat, that brought a little girl to him in the middle of a busy street, a flower clutched between her tiny fingers. She offered it to him and smiled, seeming to understand that Spanish would not be the best language to speak to him in. He doubted she knew a world of English. But her smile, sweet and small and innocent, struck him as something universal.

He took it and tucked it behind his ear.

Allen laughed, light and cheerful, and thanked the girl for him. She babbled something with a lot of soft sounds and skipped away.

"It's so nice here." Bean Sprout said, stretching his arms over his head in an expression of terrible unrest. "The weather is perfect, the sea is so blue, the people are friendly—"

"Making retirement plans already?" Kanda asked, and turned away from the idiot Brit. Truly, now was not the time to be thinking about the weather. Also, not time to be thinking about how bright Allen's smile was. Not at all. There would never be a time for those things, not while there was a war.

"Not even close. But I do like it. The breeze is lovely."

Not the word Kanda would have used.

Link remained silent through their conversation, and a few steps away, perhaps trying to give them privacy. After the event on the stairs he had become somewhat less willing to intrude on Bean Sprout's business for no reason whatsoever. He needed prompting. It was a change the swordsman appreciated, at least in one way. It meant that if he gave Link a meaningful look, he could tug Allen away from prying eyes and steal a kiss, even if the act remained completely undefined between the three of them.

There had been talk of something casual. The concept did not exactly exist in his mind the way it should have.

And somewhere, in the back of his thoughts, lurked a redheaded regret he simply could not cast aside so quickly.

"The church should be up the street, if I remember correctly." Bean Sprout pointed in the wrong direction.

Kanda nodded. "Up that street, then."

They wandered up that street for ten minutes before Allen decided that he'd meant the parallel street and they went that way, and spotted their query perched on a high hill, surrounded by buildings and narrow ally ways. It was brown and yet beautiful. Simple and wooden roofed, unlike the cathedral they supposedly lived in. The doors were closed and the windows dark in the day. The time it took them to find it was a waste the swordsman allowed for reasons he could not entirely explain. His mind was on other things. His emotions twisted like his hair. He did not think that he wanted to be here in Barcelona chasing a shard of the world's only hope.

He kept thinking about Bean Sprout.

Attraction could only go so far.

He hadn't yet seen Allen naked.

Not that that really changed anything.

Barcelona. There was nothing here that he wanted. Or rather, something was missing from here that he did want. From everywhere and everything.

He was a fool.

His wild, aimless thoughts came back to what had set them off and examined it from a different angle. He came to the same conclusion: he was still a fool and he was not about to forgive himself for it. When the truth came out, he couldn't imagine that Allen would, either.

"The bell tower?" Allen was saying, having a conversation.

"That's what the report said. I believe." Kanda said absently, and began to ascend the stares.

**So... it's shorter than normal. But it is done. And there will be more sooner than the last update, lol. Inspiration has crawled back into my head these last few days, somehow. Unfortunately, I have no recollection where this WAS going, only where it is now. So...**


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